I1EU   FACE   AMID   TUB   FLAMES   SHADOWS   LIKE   A   WHITE   ENCHANTED   FLOWER. 

Page  364 


THE 

FLAME    DANCER 


FRANCES  AYMAR  MATHEWS 

Author  of 
"MY  LADY  PEGGY  GOES  TO  TOWN,"  "A  LITTLE  TRAGEDY  AT  TIEN-TSIN.' 


"/  have  starved  every  impulse,  every  power  in  me,  but  one.  I 
have  subjugated  all  the  passions,  hungers,  thirsts,  desires  of 
man  which  /,  too,  was  endowed  with,  so  that  I  might  concentrate 
everything  in  one  thing,  my  will.  I  have  succeeded.  J  may  have 
lost  all  the  so-called  pleasures  of  life,  but  I  have  obtained  the 
supreme.  I  can  control  men,  whether  they  are  far  or  near 
to  me." 


Illustrations  by 

C.  F.  NEAGLE 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

Stage  Rights  Reserved  by 
FRANCES  AYMAR  MATHEWS 


'       The  Flame  Dancer 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  REGINALD  MAKES  HIS  PROPOSAL        ...          7 

II.  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  FUTURE  ....       26 

III.  MASTER  AND  SLAVE       ......       42 

IV.  THE  ONE  WOMAN  ......        54 

V.  THE  CALL  OF  THE  MAGIC  HARP         ...       70 

VI.  THE  GHOST  AT  THE  BALL    .....       86 

VII.  THE  POWER  AGAINST  WHICH  TO  STRUGGLE 

IS   USELESS         .......     IIO 

VIII.  WHAT  REGGIE  SAW       ......      121 

IX.  THE  MAN  FROM  HEADQUARTERS        .        .        .131 

X.  "WILT  THOU  TAKE  THIS  MAN?"     "NO"          .      145 

XL  THE  FIFTH  WHEEL  OF  THE  COACH    .        .        .      1  54 

XII.  THE  FLIGHT  IN  THE  NIGHT          .        .        .        .      l68 

XIII.  BERTHA'S  LUCK       .......      173 

XIV.  JAFFRAY'S  CONFLICT      ......      191 

XV.  DETECTIVE  AND  LOVER         .....      197 

XVI.  ON  THE  TRAIL         .......     213 

XVII.  THE  REACH  OF  THE  HUMAN  SOUL     .        .        .224 

XVIII.  No.  6072  AND  No.  89116          .....     239 

XIX.  ACROSS  THE  CONTINENT      .....     253 

XX.  THE  VANISHING  PLACE                                   ,             260 

XXI.  FORTY  FEET  UNDER  THE  GROUND    .        .        .     273 

XXII.  WEAVING  A  HUMAN  NET      .....     288 

XXIII.  THE  FIFTH  WHEEL  OF  THE  COACH    .        .        .302 

XXIV.  THE  WOMAN  IN  ROOM  No.  40     .        .        .        .308 
XXV.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  SOULS        .       .        .        .320 

XXVI.  THE  THIEF        ........     33^ 

XXVII.  THE  FLAME  DANCE         ......     358 


2137252 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FAOS 

His  eyes  were  weaving  about  her  a  web  of  irresistible  fiber      .           .  45 

"I  will  not  permit  the  indignity  of  a  search"    ....  141 

"Yes,  she  is  here"          ........  289 

Her  face  amid  the  flames  shadows  like  a  white  enchanted  flower  .  364 


THE  FLAME  DANCER. 


REGINALD   MAKES    HIS   PROPOSAL 

^  ^  ¥^v  UT,  Reggie,  now  come,  what  better  can  you 

O  do? 

The  eyebrows  of  the  man  addressed 
lifted  slowly  and  ironically;  the  woman  who  had  ad- 
dressed him,  by  whom  he  sat  on  a  delightful  little 
tete-a-tete  in  the  coziest  and  most  secluded  corner  of 
her  brother's  apartment  on  Central  Park  West,  ob- 
served the  irony  of  her  companion's  eyebrows,  but, 
like  most  of  her  sex  once  embarked  on  the  enticing 
sea  of  match-making,  Mrs.  De  Forrest  Austin  never 
cast  anchor  until  port  was  made  and  the  knot  safely 
tied. 

"Isn't  Bertha  a  perfect  dear?"  she  inquired  viva- 
ciously. 

Reginald  Stevens  nodded  slowly,  and  looking  down 
a  bit  at  her,  smiled  as  he  said:  "My  dear  Betty,  you 
are  all  dears." 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

"Hush !"  she  pouted.  "Since  Forrie  and  I  hit  it  off 
twelve  years  ago,  think  of  it,  twelve  years!  I  never 
can  rest  without  trying  to  provide  some  one's  hap- 
piness." 

"Count  me  out,  like  an  angel,"  the  man  exclaimed. 
"  Ton  honor,  Betty,  I  don't  want  to  marry  even  your 
dearest  friend.  Don't  want  to  marry  anybody."  He 
stood  up  for  a  moment,  and  then  reseated  himself 
astride  of  a  light  straight  chair,  in  front  of  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin. He  was  a  big  chap,  good  to  look  at,  clean,  whole- 
some, fine,  strong:  that  was  the  outer  man.  What 
primal  passions  and  elementary  urgings  and  spur- 
rings  and  law-defying  instincts  there  might  be  beneath, 
belonging  to  the  soul  of  him,  it  would  have  taken 
much  more  than  a  cursory  glance  to  discover. 

"I  say!"  he  continued,  noting  Mrs.  Austin's  ex- 
pression of  momentary  dismay,  "I'm  not  a  marrying 
chap  at  all.  One  should  have  the  longing  for  a  home, 
an  anchorage,  a  perpetuity,  a  sort  of  end-of-the- 
chapter  attitude,  shouldn't  one  now,  before  one  asks 
a  girl  to  be  one's  wife?" 

"'End  of  the  chapter!'"  repeated  Betty  Austin,  in 
mirthful  amazement.  "I  like  that.  I  rather  think  it's 
found  oftenest  to  be  the  beginning  of — many  chap- 
ters." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  he  responded  hastily,  "that  it 

8 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

ought  to  be — that  maybe  it  is,  in  cases  like  yours  and 
Forrie's,  but  I'm  speaking  of  the  dull  and  deadly  aver- 
age: I  belong  to  the  dull  and  deadly  average,  and, 
hang  it!  Bettty,  I'm  not  ready  yet  to  exchange  what 
I  have  for,  what  I  haven't!" 

"But  Bertha  ?"  exclaimed  the  matron,  in  a  tone  that 
would  seem  to  admit  of  no  appeal. 

"Bertha!"  reiterated  Mr.  Stevens,  in  a  possibly 
brutal  tone.  "What  of  her?  What  about  her?" 

"She — likes  you,"  said  Mrs.  Austin,  with  a  fine  and 
artful  hesitation. 

"Well,  what  of  it?  She  likes  dozens  of  men,  no 
doubt.  Why  am  I  picked  out  by  you  to  convert  her 
into  a  married  woman?  Choose  some  one  else. 
Choose — well,  there's  Tommy  Partley,  a  lovely  chap." 

"Is  he?"  responded  Mrs.  Austin,  in  a  careful  tone, 
as  her  eyes  and  Mr.  Stevens'  both  wandered  out  of 
their  cozy  corner  in  Doctor  Warren's  library  to  the 
drawing-room  where  a  birthday-party  for  Jean  Aus- 
tin, Mrs.  Austin's  daughter,  was  in  progress,  and  in 
the  midst  of  which  entertainment  the  aforesaid  Part- 
ley  was  exploiting  himself. 

"Isn't  he?"  retorted  Reginald  Stevens. 

Mr.  Partley,  at  this  particular  juncture,  was  en- 
gaged in  playing  "Oats,  peas,  beans  and  barley 
grows,"  with  all  the  spirit  of  an  extreme  and  volatile 

9 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

juvenility — he  was,  in  fact,  but  twenty-two,  very 
short,  near-sighted,  adorably  unconscious  of  himself 
and  keen  for  any  sort  of  activity. 

"He  is  in  love  with  Primrose  Palmer." 

"'Love!'"  ejaculated  Mr.  Stevens,  in  a  curiously 
chilling  and  supercilious  way. 

"Yes,  love,"  returned  Mrs.  Austin  firmly.  "And," 
she  resumed  with  concentration  and  in  a  much  low- 
ered key,  "Bertha  Wilmerding  loves  you." 

Stevens  did  not  move  a  muscle;  he  also  remained 
silent  for  a  full  minute ;  then  he  said : 

"Betty,  that  isn't  like  you.  If  it's  fiction  you 
shouldn't  indulge  in  that  brand;  if  it's  fact,  for  the 
girl's  sake  you  should  have  been  fair  and  kept  her 
secret."  He  rose. 

"  'Secret !'  "  cried  Betty  Austin  suavely,  "there's  no 
secret  about  it,  and  Forrie  and  I,  and  the  whole  of 
our  set,  every  one  of  us  is  just  sitting  up  primed, 
waiting  for  you  to — do  it!" 

"Don't  be  absurd,  please,"  Reginald  remarked, 
while  out  in  the  drawing-room  the  host's  newest  pal, 
a  Chinese  professor,  was  blandly  condescending  to 
amuse  the  Christian  children  with  some  curious  feats 
of  hypnotic  legerdemain  from  the  land  of  little 
shoes. 

"  'Absurd !'  "  again  echoed  Mrs.  Betty.  "Why,  see 

10 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

here,  Reggie,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you're  not  going 
to  marry  Bertha?"  Her  voice  was  very  serious. 

Reggie's  eyes  at  this  moment  were  fixed  upon  the 
young  woman  in  question.  She  was  a  big  girl,  with 
an  every-day  face  and  smile,  a  figure  promising  all 
kinds  of  early  redundancy,  and  a  lot  of  lovely  black 
hair,  which  was  marcelled  into  stupid  smoothness  by; 
her  apt  maid  every  day.  She  wore  very  expensive 
and  very  smart  clothes ;  she  seemed  to  be  all  there  and 
yet  not  to  be  quite  balanced;  she  was  one  of  thou- 
sands of  girls  in  New  York  who  are  physically  com- 
plete, but  to  an  exceptional  observer  merely  galvan- 
ized puppets  parading  about  in  the  mirthful  society  of 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  counterparts. 

"Most  certainly  not,"  he  finally  replied. 

"But,  Reggie!"  Betty  Austin's  voice  sank.  Ste- 
vens looked  at  her  squarely.  "Sit  down — here  again 
beside  me,  won't  you?"  He  sat  down  beside  her,  of 

course.  She  leaned  near  to  him  and  went  on  in  a 
whisper.  "Reggie,  the  girl  is  dying  for  you." 

"Hush!"  he  cried,  springing  up.  "It  is  not  wom- 
anly, or  fair,  or  true  to  your  friend  to  say  such 
things."  His  voice  was  harsh  and  untempered. 

"It  is,"  she  cried  impetuously.  "It  is,  because  I 
know  that  she  would  make  you  happy."  Mr.  Stevens 
contemplated  Mrs.  Austin  with  an  amused  antago- 

ii 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

nism,  and  yet,  too,  there  was  in  his  face  the  warning 
hint  of  a  coming  surrender;  as  if  some  unmanageable 
cloud  were  smothering  him  to  its  whim. 

"Happy?"  he  managed  to  speak.  "What  do  you 
know  about  what  would  make  me  happy?"  He  spoke 
slowly;  while  he  spoke,  his  gaze  was  not  on  his  com- 
panion, or  yet  on  Miss  Bertha  Wilmerding,  but  it  was 
irrelevantly  enough  fixed  upon  the  Chinese  professor 
who  was  now  spinning  twenty-six  tops  in  the  air, 
apparently  unsupported  by  anything  more  material 
than  his  own  Chinese  will. 

"I  know  you  so  well,  Reggie.  You've  been  a  bit 
wild — of  course " 

Mr.  Stevens'  gaze  quitted  the  Chinese  professor 
and  alighted  on  Betty's  countenance.  He  himself  was 
just  then  back  in  the  African  jungle,  lying  in  the 
shade  of  luxuriant  foliage  at  noonday,  panting  with 
the  intolerable  heat;  sweet  fruits  between  his  lips, 
sweet,  dissonant  voices  near  him:  then  the  sun  sank 
and  the  cool  night  wind  crept  up  from  the  sea,  and 
with  it  came  the  thirst  for  the  struggle  and  the  grip 
of  the  darkness;  the  star-time,  when  men  start  out 
in  those  lands  to  use  their  nerves  and  muscles,  to  sat- 
isfy their  hungers,  quench  their  thirsts;  to  combat 
with  lithe  beasts  and  lither  men,  to  kiss  their  women, 
and  to  fall  asleep  from  sheer  exhaustion  when  their 

12 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

battles  are  fought  and  won.  His  memory  slipped  half- 
way across  the  world  to  North  China,  to  the  narrow, 
dark  valley  between  the  narrow,  arid  mountains, 
where  some  years  before  he  had  spent  time  surveying 
for  the  great  trans-continental  railway,  buying  tracts 
of  land  to  meet  the  future  demands  of  the  traffic 
he  foresaw — for  Reginald  Stevens  was  the  alert,  keen 
man  of  to-day,  and  the  millions  he  had  were  no  rea- 
son to  him  for  not  acquiring  as  many  more.  He 
remembered,  as  it  is  possible  for  the  mind  to  hold 
a  hundred  things  at  once,  the  sacred  tomb  and  shrine 
of  the  Flame  Dancers,  as  they  called  themselves;  that 
he  had  bought  it  in  defiance  of  the  princely  chief  of 
the  sect,  who  had  come  to  him  veiled  in  mysterious 
flames  to  warn  him  of  his  vandalism  and  to  tell  him 
that  the  opals  which  were  hidden  in  the  shrine  would 
yet  be  gotten  back  by  their  rightful  owners — Stevens 
remembered  all  this  as  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  Struh- 
La,  and  then  he  smiled  as  he  recalled  how  much  a 
woman  like  Bertha  would  enjoy  those  opals,  and  that 
he  had  promised  Betty  Austin  she  should  wear  them 
at  this  ball  of  hers  next  week.  Yes,  Betty  Austin  was 
to  wear  on  her  fatuous  brow  the  glorious,  flaming 
talisman  of  the  Eastern  men.  The  little  words,  and 
the  little  voice,  and  the  little  soul  of  this  human  be- 
ing, Betty,  who  sat  on  the  velvet  sofa  and  thus  piped 

13 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

unto  him,  struck  him  as  so  ludicrous,  in  the  teeth  of 
his  well-recollected  and  many  pasts,  that  he  would 
have  laughed  in  her  face,  but  that  the  monarch  who 
rules  this  kind  of  man,  as  well  as  any  other  kind, 
forbade;  he  doffed  his  smiles  to  Convention,  and, 
bending  nearer  to  Mrs.  Austin,  remarked: 

"A  bit  wild,  you  say?"  She  nodded.  "Well,  now, 
upon  the  whole,  I  rather  think  I'm  wilder  at  this  mo- 
ment, in  this  day  and  year  of  grace,  than  I  ever  was 
before." 

She  laughed  because  she  fancied  it  was  an  appro- 
priate moment  for  it.  She  had  no  sort  of  idea  what 
Mr.  Stevens  was  talking  about;  so  she  said:  "Well, 
that's  just  it,  and  Bertha  would  tame  you." 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed  incredulously.  Just  then  he 
beheld  Bertha's  foot;  it  was  large,  ugly,  and  ex- 
quisitely shod.  He  abominated  a  large  and  ugly  foot 
for  a  woman. 

"Yes,"  pursued  the  matron  blithely.  "You've  had 
your  fling,  Reggie,  dear  boy.  I  know."  She  shook 
a  pretty  ringer  at  him,  and  at  those  many  imaginary 
things  already  easily  and  specifically  classed  as  "the 
past."  Then  she  resumed :  "But  a  man  of  your  name 
and  fortune  must  think;  you  owe  it  to  your  name  to 
marry;  you  owe  it  to  Bertha  Wilmerding  to  marry 
her." 

14 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"Why?"  he  asked  harshly. 

"Because — can  I  tell  you  the  truth?" 

"Why  not!" 

"Because  for  all  last  summer,  and  all  this  winter  up 
in  town,  every  one  has  coupled  her  name  and  yours." 

"Why  did  they  do  that?"  he  inquired,  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  way. 

"You  have  been  very  attentive  to  the  girl;  flowers, 
drives,  bonbons,  dinners,  theater-parties " 

"Well — I "  as  his  companion's  breath  alone; 

gave  out. 

"Well!"  she  ejaculated  impatiently.  "What  did 
you  do  it  all  for,  and  mislead  her  and  us,  if  not  to 
end  up  by  a  proposal,  eh?" 

"I  did  it,"  he  answered  slowly,  "because  her  mother, 
who  is  an  invalid,  as  you  know,  and  at  the  sanitarium 
at  Saratoga,  asked  me  to  help  make  the  girl's  winter 
pleasant  for  her.  I've  never  given  her  a  glance  or 
a  word  other  than  the  most  commonplace." 

"But  she  thinks  you  have.  She  has  written  her 
mother  so;  they  expect  it;  they  regard  it  as  your  in- 
honor-bound  duty." 

"What?"  he  cried,  with  a  gasp. 

"They  certainly  do.  Now,  Reggie,  dear,  Bertha  is 
charming ;  she  will  preside  with  grace,  I  am  sure,  over 
your  town  house  and  the  places  at  Long  Island  and 

15 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

in  the  Adirondacks;  the  world  expects  it  of  you,  the 
girl  loves  you.  What  more  do  you  want,  anyway?" 
she  concluded  irritably. 

"Less,"  he  responded,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"Well,  are  you  going  to  propose  to  her?" 

He  stood  up  quite  still  and  rather  white.  A  lot 
more  of  that  multifarious  proposition,  his  past,  arose 
before  him.  This  time  it  dealt,  not  with  African 
jungles  and  women  with  the  tigress'  touch,  but  rather 
with  those  dreams,  hopes — splendid,  formless  but 
inspiring  plans  which  he  had  had  for  a  beautiful, 
strong,  and  glorious  future.  It  was  bitter  to  push 
away  the  untasted  cup  of  all  these  capacities  which 
he  knew  he  possessed — and  to  possess  in  their  mag- 
nificent stead  Miss  Bertha  Wilmerding  and  her  ex- 
cruciatingly ugly  feet,  and  her  all  too  promising  fig- 
ure! that's  just  exactly  what  he  thought. 

He  said  to  Mrs.  Austin,  for  of  such  material  is 
made  that  thing  which  men  call  their  honor:  "Well, 
Betty,  since  it's  as  you  say,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  suc- 
cumb!" 

"That's  a  dear,"  she  rewarded.  "Do  it  to-night. 
Bertha  has  been  expecting  it  ever  since  that  Peter 
Pan  party,  when  you  had  to  fetch  her  home  without 
a  chaperon  because  I  was  taken  ill  and  Mrs.  Spencer 
was  hateful." 

16 


THE  FL'AME   D'ANCER 

"Has  she?"  he  said;  then  he  crossed  over  toward 
Bertha,  being  introduced  on  the  way  to  the  Chinese 
professor,  whose  name  was  Struh-La. 

Even  as  the  introduction  was  taking  place,  before 
he  actually  had  reached  Miss  Wilmerding's  side,  the 
faint,  persistent  wraith  of  his  fantasy  for  what  a 
woman  he  might  love  should  be,  arose  before  him, 
hovering  just  between  him  and  the  Oriental  man. 
Yes,  that  was  it;  Reggie  had  unconsciously,  it  is  true, 
groped  almost  all  over  the  world  looking  for  his 
woman,  and  now  to  sit  down  with  Bertha  Wilmer- 
ding!  Well,  it  did  seem  a  bit  crushing. 

He  did  not,  however,  sit  down  with  her  just  yet. 
Leopold  Warren,  the  host  of  the  occasion,  Jean's  un- 
cle and  godfather,  Betty  Austin's  brother,  nodded 
beckoningly  to  him  en  route,  from  one  of  the  adjoin- 
ing rooms,  and  Mr.  Stevens  responded  with  alacrity; 
he  would  have  done  so  to  almost  any  one  who  had 
called  him  away  from  Bertha  Wilmerding.  Doctor 
Warren  didn't  want  to  say  anything  especially,  unless 
it  might  have  been  to  emphasize  the  man  from  the 
Orient  to  his  American  friend. 

"He's  no  end  of  a  wonder,  Reggie,  old  man ;  really 
a  scientist  and  a  student,  bound  to  make  a  big  mark 
in  the  world.  I  knew  him  in  Paris,  and  over  there 

17 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

Betty  caught  the  Oriental  cult  from  him,  I  do  believe. 
He  fascinates  the  women." 

"Yes?"  Stevens  responded  courteously,  now  look- 
ing the  Mongolian  over  for  the  first  time.  "A  per- 
sonality, I  should  say,  one  could  never  forget  alto- 
gether." He  surveyed  the  professor,  who  just  then 
was  making  great  entertainment  at  blind  man's  buff 
for  the  group  of  children;  not  that  he  was  blind- 
folded, by  any  means.  Tommy  Partley  was  doing 
that  stunt,  while  the  Chinese,  by  a  series  of  the  clev- 
erest sort  of  muscular  maneuvers,  kept  Mr.  Partley 
at  bay,  his  countenance  remaining  as  immovable  as 
the  sphinx. 

"He  has  extraordinary  eyes,"  observed  Stevens. 

"He  has  the  brain  of  a  Schopenhauer  or  a  Kant," 
returned  the  physician.  "I  have  given  him  the  en- 
tree at  the  hospitals,  and  with  my  best  friends;  put 
him  up  at  my  clubs,  and  as  to  my  sister!  she  really 
seems  interested  in  his  philosophy,  and  that  for  Betty; 
is — well,  you  know  Betty !"  Betty's  brother  laughed. 

"I  see !"  Stevens  laughed,  too. 

"You  don't  fancy  him,  Reggie  ?"  with  irritation. 

"Don't  know  him,  old  man.    Wait  a  bit." 

"I  suppose  you're  so  taken  up  with — er — Bertha 
you  haven't  much  thought  for  any  one  else  just  now  ?" 
Doctor  Warren  smiled. 

18 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"I  say!  now,  what  do  you  mean?"  Stevens  asked 
the  question  quietly  enough. 

"Well,  I  mean  that  Betty  says  you've  compromised 
yourself  in  that  quarter,  and  I  take  it  you're  not  the 
chap  to  compromise  yourself  without  meaning  that 
you  want  the  girl  to  marry  you." 

"I  don't,  though,"  retorted  the  other  calmly.  "I've 
been  nice  to  Miss  Wilmerding  because  her  sick  mother 
begged  me  to  be;  because  she  was  not  too  attractive 
to  other  men;  because  she  was  not  an  heiress;  be- 
cause she  seemed  to  me  dull  and  utterly  stupid." 

Warren  regarded  his  friend  with  a  placid  stupefac- 
tion. "She  isn't,  though." 

"Isn't  what?" 

"Oh,  she  is  poor,  but  she  isn't  stupid.  She  plays 
cards,"  added  Warren,  with  a  smile. 

"Bridge,  for  money?" 

"Yes.  She  does  that,  and  wins,  too;  but  I  meant 
another  sort." 

"What  sort?" 

"Wedding-cards,"  succinctly. 

"You  don't  mean " 

"But  I  do.  Betty  rather  roped  me  into  believing 
the  girl  was  ingenuous  and  all  that,  but  I  doubt  it; 
rather  think,  old  man,  that  the  mother  and  the  girl 
and  my  blessed  sister  have  done  you  up." 

19 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"I  think  not/'  Stevens  answered  through  his  shut 
teeth. 

"Too  bad,  Reggie.  Reckon  you'll  have  to  marry; 
her,  honor  bound."  Stevens  now  looked  up  quickly. 

"You  think  that,  Leo?" 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"Urn." 

"Any  other  girl?" 

"No." 

"Well,  then,  what's  the  row?  Marriage,  dear  old 
chap,  is  only  an  episode.  What  difference,  now, 
really,  need  it  make  in  your  life  if  there  is  a  Mrs. 
Stevens  living  in  your  town  house,  or  down  in  the 
country,  or  traveling  across  the  pond  every  season  to 
the  Riviera,  or  down  to  Florida,  or  wherever  else! 
You  needn't  be  with  her,  and,  after  all,  it's  the  propet 
caper  to  marry,  have  a  wife,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.' 

"Is  it?" 

"I  suppose  so.  They  tell  me  I  must  do  it,  or  abanr 
don  living  by  my  profession." 

"And  you'll  do  it  on  those  grounds?" 

"Shouldn't  wonder." 

"Marry  Bertha  Wilmerding,  then." 

"Can't  afford  it ;  she's  too  poor.  Besides,  she  wot  • 
ships  you,  and  I  reckon  I'll  hold  out  until  I  encounter 
a  girl  who  cares  for  me." 

20 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Look  here,"  Reginald  Stevens  said  bluntly,  "don't 
talk  like  a  fool  or  a  knave;  you're  neither  one.  I'm 
damned  if  I  don't  believe  marriage  is  a  holy  thing,  if 
anything  is  holy  at  all  in  this  rotten  world." 

"It  ought  to  be,"  answered  the  other  man,  soberly 
enough,  "only  it  isn't,  that's  all.  Why  in^ — "  he 
paused,  "thunder  have  you  behaved  so  to  this  girl 
unless  you  did  intend  to  marry  her?" 

"I've  told  you  the  truth." 

"You've  made  her  the  talk  of  the  town,  at  least  of 
her  set,  and  if  you  don't  marry  her  she'll  be  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  'em  all;  much  my  sister's  fault,  I  admit." 

Stevens  looked  over  at  Miss  Wilderming;  her  black 
eyes  met  his.  That  strange  thing  which  men  call 
honor  again  jumped  promptly  to  the  front.  He  actu- 
ally thought  it  honor  to  propose  marriage  to  this  girl, 
and  that  to  marry  her  with  a  soul  in  revolt  at  her 
mere  presence,  no  dishonor  at  all  either  to  himself  or 
to  her.  Now,  that  is  strange,  is  it  not?  But  it  is  the 
foundation-stone  of  many  weddings,  many  divorces, 
many  lives  spent  in  wrangling  and  distorted  agony. 

However,  Mr.  Stevens  just  now  turned  on  his  heel; 
the  words  "talk  of  the  town"  and  "laughing-stock" 
stinging  his  ears  and  smiting  his  brain  most  bitterly; 
that  he  should  cause  this  to  any  woman!  it  could  not 
be;  it  must  not  be.  She  was  a  woman;  she  must  be 

21 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

spared.  After  all,  marriage  need  be  but  an  incident", 
as  Warren  had  said,  and  by  this  time  Bertha  had  met 
him  half-way  across  the  small  drawing-room  and  was 
saying : 

"I  am  really  tired  out  with  these  games.  Can't  I 
sit  down  somewhere  quietly  with  you  for  a  while?" 

"Certainly,"  he  answered,  following  her  lead  back 
to  the  cozy  corner  in  the  empty  library  which  Mrs, 
Austin  had  recently  vacated. 

"Warm,  isn't  it?"  she  said,  sinking  into  the  seat 
with  a  luxurious  pose  and  slowly  waving  her  fan 
back  and  forth. 

"Is  it?"  he  remarked,  taking  the  fan  from  her  and 
using  it  for  her.  He  was  actually  wondering  how  to 
do  what  he  must  do,  and,  somewhat  versed  as  he  was 
in  the  lore  most  pleasing  to  women,  he  was  non- 
plussed. 

"Never  mind  fanning  me,  you're  tired.  I  can  see 
it  in  your  eyes." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it."    He  fanned  on  vigorously. 

"But  I  know;  I  have  studied  your  face  and  your 
moods  so  much  that  I  am  posted."  She  looked  up 
languishingly,  but  his  gray  eyes  did  not  meet  hers. 

"Are  you,  now?  'Well  then,  if  that's  the  case,  can't 
we  hit  it  off  together  for  the — rest  of  our  lives?" 

"I  think  so,"  she  answered  very  joyfully,  almost 

22 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

triumphantly,  and  her  hand  went  out  toward  him. 
His  did  not  reach  for  hers. 

"It  will  be  satisfactory  to  you?"  he  went  on,  in  an 
even  voice. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  under  her  breath,  "  'satisfactory' 

isn't  the  word.  I — I "  She  glanced  up  at  his 

face  with  a  very  good  assumption  of  shyness,  but 
finding  no  answering  glance  she  leaned  away  from 
him  back  among  the  cushions,  where  she  knew  she 
made  at  least  an  effective  picture. 

Stevens  smiled  a  bit.  "Oh,  eome  now,"  he  said, 
"you  and  I  are  not  going  in  for  the  romantic  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  We're  just  two  sensible  people 
who  have  determined  to  marry  each  other  without 
any  sentimental  nonsense." 

Bertha  Wilmerding  regarded  her  companion  with 
a  sort  of  stupid  amazement.  She  had  heard  a  vast 
deal,  thought  she  knew  a  vast  deal  more  about  the 
emotions  of  men,  and  this  crisis  did  not  fulfil  her 
expectations.  She  sighed  as  she  laid  her  hand  on 
Reggie's  arm  and  said:  "I  love  you,  Reggie." 

Reggie  laughed  really  a  bit  nervously.  "That's  un- 
commonly nice  of  you,  Bertha,  of  course.  I'm  afraid 
I'm  not  the  sort  of  a  chap  who  can  comprehend  that 
kind  of  thing.  Let  it  go  at  that,  if  you  will  be  so 
good,"  he  added  as  he  rose;  then  he  turned  back  to 

23 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

her  and  supplemented:  "I'll  send  you  a  ring  from 
Tiffany's  to-morrow.    What  kind  would  you  like?" 

But  her  soul  did  not  revolt;  not  a  bit  of  it.  She 
answered,  while  her  heart  beat  tremendously  under 

her  pink  satin  bodice:  "Diamonds;  they're  so  pure 
and  exquisite." 

"Very  well,"  he  returned,  "a  cluster  or  a  solitaire  ?" 

"I  adore  cluster  rings,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Then  that  it  shall  be."  He  smiled  and  indicated 
that  she  had  better  rise  and  go  into  the  drawing- 
room.  "You  don't  mind,  I'm  sure,  if  I  disappear  in 
the  doctor's  den  for  a  bit  and  have  a  smoke,  do 
you?" 

"Oh,  no!"  she  cried,  nodding  as  he  left  her  near 
Mrs.  Austin  and  went  away.  She  did  not  care  too 
much.  Her  ambition  was  gratified  to  its  height;  as 
to  the  rest  of  it,  love,  well,  she  set  her  teeth  together 
and  felt  within  her  soul  and  body  that  he  was  hers, 
and  that  no  other  woman  could  call  him  husband. 
That  is  a  sublime  solace  to  some  feminine  natures  for 
even  the  hell  of  being  the  wife  of  an  unloving  man. 

Miss  Wilmerding  radiated  happiness;  Mrs.  Austin 
saw  it.  She  said  to  her  friend:  "Has  he  done  it?" 
Bertha  nodded.  "Really  spoken  those  words  we  have 
been  waiting  and  hoping  for  for  months?"  Miss 
Wilmerding  again  inclined  her  head,  and  neither  of 

24 


THE  FLAME   D'ANCER 

tHem  had  the  least  perception  that  she  was  vulgar, 
despicable,  and  unwomanly.  They  thought  all  women 
like  themselves,  and  knew  no  more  of  the  status  and 
existence  even  of  the  woman  who  has  to  be  sought, 
than  they  did  of  Hindostanee. 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SHADOW   OF  THE   FUTURE 

f  fp  I  'ELL  me  all  about  it,  dear,"  cooed  Betty  Aus- 
tin. "Come  sit  down  in  here  again."  She 
led  the  way  once  more  to  the  cozy  corner. 

"He  did  it  here,"  observed  Miss  Wilmerding, 
laughingly.  "Oh,  you  dear  old  thing,  isn't  it  just  too 
lovely  for  any  sort  of  sense?" 

"Of  course  it  is.  I  was  dreadfully  afraid  you 
wouldn't  land  him;  Reggie  is  so  difficult;  but  you 
have?"  The  matron  regarded  the  maid  with  a  slant 
eye.  "You're  sure?" 

"I  should  say!"  responded  Bertha.  "I'm  not  ma- 
king any  mistakes,  my  love.  He's  going  to  send  me 
a  cluster  from  Tiffany's  to-morrow,  and  I'm  just 
crazy  until  I  can  get  home  and  send  mother  a  tele- 
gram." 

"She  will  be  pleased,"  remarked  Betty. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  the  girl,  "she  has  counted 
on  it  ever  since  she  asked  him  to  be  nice  to  me  at 
Saratoga  last  summer,  on  account  of  my  father  and 
his  father  having  been  college  boys  together." 

26 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"I  know.  Well  now,  love,  no  more  anxieties,  in 
this  world  at  least,  about  dressmakers'  and  milliners' 
bills,  boxes  at  the  opera,  automobiles,  trips  to  the 
Riviera  and  all  that.  You'll  be  presented  at  court,  of 
course.  Reggie  is  persona  grata  with  His  Majesty 
and  used  to  be  at  Sandringham  quite  some.  When 
are  you  to  be  tied  up,  dear?" 

"Oh,"  smiled  the  fiancee,  "we  haven't  got  quite  as 
far  as  that  yet — we've  only  been  engaged  about  ten 
minutes." 

Mrs.  Austin  laughed.  "To  be  sure ;  well,  don't  dally 
too  long;  men  are  so  fickle.  And  now  may  I  an- 
nounce it?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Miss  Wilmerding,  decisively,  "I 
wish  you  would." 

"I  am  glad  you  have  no  silly  objections,  dear,  be- 
cause, really  you  know  yourself,  every  one  in  our 
crowd  has  been  expecting  it  for  ever  so  long." 

"I  know,  I  know,  and  I  did  think,  Bet,  at  one  time, 
that  Reggie  was  fighting  shy  and  would  bolt,  but  he's 
come  up  to  time  like  a  man."  Her  thin  red  lips  nar- 
rowed into  a  threadlike  line,  her  eyes  were  alight  with 
the  conquests  of  the  things  in  store  for  her,  and  she 
added  with  a  perfect  inflection,  for  her  voice  had  been 
successfully  curried  into  fluent  softness  by  gover- 
nesses of  English  birth :  "I'll  wager  you  a  five-pound 

27 


THE  FL"AME  DANCER 

box  of  Huyler's  I'll  make  Reggie  pay  Louise's  bill  for 
those  four  hats  before  he's  a  month  older  than  he  is !" 

"But,  my  love,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Austin,  "now, 
don't,  don't  get  married  privately  and  cheat  us  all  out 
of  the  spectacle;  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  do  it  in 
a  month,  Bertha." 

"Not  I!"  responded  the  younger  woman.  "What 
do  you  think  I'm  made  of?  Do  myself  out  of  that 
triumphant  march  up  and  down  St.  Thomas'?  Not 
much." 

"But "  Mrs.  Austin  actually  hesitated  and  eyed 

her  friend  a  trifle  askance. 

"You  dear  old  silly,  do  you  suppose  there  aren't 
ways  to  work  on  a  fiance's  feelings  so  that  he  will 
just  send  you  up  a  check  for  the  beast  of  a  modiste 

who  makes  you  cry  such  pretty  tears  for  him?" 

• 

"You  minx !"  laughed  Betty.  "I  guess  you  can  take 
care  of  yourself."  She  gazed  admiringly  at  Bertha. 
"I  didn't  dream  it  was  in  you." 

"I  don't  intend  to  take  care  of  myself,  Betty  love. 
Reggie  shall  do  that,  and  I'll  take  care  of  him !"  She 
was  radiant  with  the  radiance  of  success;  it  lent  bril- 
liancy to  her  eyes,  her  cheeks,  her  speech,  even  her 
brain  scintillated  a  little  under  this  intoxicating  in- 
fluence. 

28 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Mrs.  Austin  again  regarded  her.  She  said :  "You'd 
better,  for  Reggie  is  not  only  a  handsome  man,  but 
attractive." 

"Of  course  he  is!"  said  the  bride-elect. 

"Now  then,  darling,  I  must  tell  Forrie  first;  he'll 
be  so  glad."  She  found  Forrie  smoking  in  the  long 
little  hall,  way  at  its  far  end,  and  quite  alone. 

"Reggie  has  done  it  at  last!" 

"Done  what?"  the  husband  inquired  in  a  bored  way. 

"Proposed  to  Bertha  Wilmerding!" 

"Proposed  what  to  her?"  He  stopped  smoking, 
which  he  had  never  done  before  for  his  wife. 

"Marriage,  of  course." 

There  was  a  pause.  Mr.  De  Forrest  Austin  lighted 
a  fresh  cigarette. 

"I  didn't  suppose  he  was  such  an  infernal  fool!" 

"And  is  a  man  an  infernal  fool  because  he  is  going 
to  marry  a  nice  girl?"  asked  the  wife,  tartly.  "Or  is 
it  because  Bertha  is  poor?" 

"  'Nice  girl,'  "  repeated  Mr.  Austin.  "Betty,  don't." 

"Well,"  she  exclaimed,  "she's  as  nice  as  any  of 
them." 

"God  help  them  all!  I  hope  he'll  talce  her  out  of 
America  on  a  perpetual  honeymoon.  Give  her  up, 
Betty.  I  don't  like  that  sort  of  girl.  Why  do  you 
like  her?  Eh?" 

29 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"She's  so  comfy  and  nice,  Forrie;  we  have  a  lot  in 
common,  although  I  will  admit  Bertha  is  rather "• 

"What?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  do." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Well,  the  whole  set  of  us,  men  and  women,  are 
bad  enough,  Bet;  I'm  no  better  than  the  rest;  but 
that  girl  would  sell  her  soul,  if  she  had  such  a  thing, 
for  a  mess  of  pottage,  and  a  few  of  the  others 
wouldn't.  Drop  her  for  a  pal  just  to  please  me.  I 
say,  I've  not  asked  you  to  please  me  for — ever  so 
long."  He  spoke  a  bit  wistfully;  it  sounded  so,  at 
all  events. 

"I  know;  but,  listen,  dear,  really  it's  impossible. 
Bertha  marries  Reggie;  they  will  have  a  house  in 
London  for  the  season,  in  a  few  years  certainly,  if 
not  at  once.  Jean  was  eleven  to-day.  Forrie,  we 
must  think  of  our  daughter,  for  Jean  to  be  asked  over 
for  a  London  June,  to  be  presented!  and  perhaps,  for 
she  is  already  very  pretty,  to  marry  a  peer — think 
of  it!" 

"Rather  not !  We  have  not  enough  to  buy  Jean  any 
such  expensive  toy  as  a  peer." 

"I  have."  Austin  winced  a  bit.  "He  will  love  her. 
No,  I  can't  give  Bertha  up;  it's  impossible;  one  must 

30 


THE  FL"AME  DX'NCER 

look  ahead;  besides,  Bertha's  no  worse — why,  Forrie, 
after  all,  she's  no  worse  than  I  am." 

"Isn't  she?"  he  queried.  "Perhaps  not,  but  at  all 
events  I  think  she  is,  and  I  think  you  are  vastly  su- 
perior." Mr.  Austin  bent  his  rather  magnetic  eyes 
upon  his  wife. 

Betty  looked  up  into  his  face  sharply,  and  yet  there 
was  that  resignation  in  her  attitude  and  tone  as  she 
spoke  which  betokened  the  woman  who  cares  for  the 
man  despite  whatever  he  may  be.  "Well,  what  do 
you  want?"  Mrs.  Austin  asked  bluntly,  and  yet  with 
that  caress  in  her  eyes  which  this  type  of  woman 
really  can  experience  in  her  heart  for  a  man  whom 
she  half-way  despises. 

"Only  a  hundred,  dear."  He  said  it  in  a  depreca- 
tory way,  said  it  with  a  charming  emphasis. 

"But  I  gave  you  a  cheque  for  three  hundred  yes- 
terday, Forrie." 

"I  know  it.  What  am  I  to  do?  I  owed  that  to 
Stevens;  owed  it  for  a  year." 

"Reggie  never  asked  you  for  it!"  the  wife  ex- 
claimed tartly. 

"No;  but,  hang  it!  Betty,  a  man  wants  to  pay 
his  debts." 

The  situation  actually  struck  her  for  perhaps  the 
first  time  in  all  its  true  lights. 


It  was  a  queer  moment,  and  a  possibly  inopportune 
place,  but  she  let  it  lead,  and  surveying  her  husband 
a  bit  curiously  she  said:  "Look  here;  I  am  not  made 
of  money;  even  my  income  isn't  too  much  in  New 
York  at  our  pace  and  with  our  tastes.  Suppose  you 
go  to  work,  and  help  out  a  bit,  just  enough,  say,  to 
pay  for  your  own  clothes  and  cigars?" 

"I  do!  I  do!"  he  responded  amiably  enough.  "I 
made  ten  dollars  a  week  in  commissions  on  that  Barbe 
Bleu  brand  of  cigars,  that  the  Baron  de  Chevalle  is 
trying  to  force." 

"Did  you  now,  really?  Ten  dollars  a  week!  How 
magnificent!  And  you  spend,  how  much?" 

"Oh,  come,  I  say,  now,  Betty,  don't  be  hard  on 
me." 

"I'm  tired  of  doing  all,"  she  pouted. 

"You  don't  do  all,"  he  answered  seriously,  his 
handsome  eyes  fixed  upon  her  face. 

"I  think  you  should  go  into  Wall  Street,  or  get 
a  position,  or  make  them  give  you  a  foreign  con- 
sulate or  something,"  she  pursued,  irrelevantly  to  his 
last  remark. 

"Look  here,"  Austin  said,  his  eyes  now  becoming 
sullen.  "You  don't  do  it  all,  I  tell  you.  I  give  you 
an  equivalent.  It's  time  for  this  rot  you  and  your 
family  talk  to  stop.  You  knew  when  you  married 

32 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

me  that  I  hadn't  a  cent;  I'm  not  a  lucky  man,  I  can't 
earn  money.  You  have  it;  what's  yours  is  mine,  you 
said."  Her  eyes  flashed  angrily;  she  remembered 
saying  just  that.  "Now,  my  name,  my  presence,  my 
escort,  my  being  your  husband,  I  consider  an  equiva- 
lent for  all  the  mere  money  you  may  hand  over  to 
me.  I  keep  my  part  of  the  bargain  and  I  expect  you 
to  keep  yours!" 

"Bargain!"  she  reiterated  after  him  with  ready 
scorn,  surveying  him.  "You  weren't  a  bargain  at  all. 
You  were  very,  very  expensive  and  not  worth  your 
price." 

"Thanks  awfully."  He  was  used  to  her  tirades,  as 
he  called  them,  and  didn't  mind  a  bit.  He  was  really, 
convinced  of  the  justice  and  equity  of  his  principles 
of  life;  as  to  manliness,  that  didn't  oppress  him,  save 
among  men  and  the  women  who  didn't  know  where 
his  spending-money  came  from. 

"But  you'll  let  me  have  the  hundred?"  He  laid 
his  hand  on  her  bare  shoulder. 

"Yes,"  was  her  answer,  and  she  made  it  good.  He 
did  not  kiss  his  wife,  but  his  lips  touched  hers. 

They  then  started  into  the  drawing-room  together, 
but  neither  was  interested  in  the  juvenile  entertain- 
ment in  progress  there.  If  they  had  realized  that  it 
was  their  own  child  who  was  at  the  moment  the  lead- 

33 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

ing  figure  in  it,  they  might  have  lingered  to  observe 
what  she  was  doing,  and  possibly  they  would  have 
been  shocked,  for  whatever  else  may  be  said  or 
thought  of  them,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Austin  were  human. 
They  were  not,  however,  human  enough  to  linger  for 
long  enough  to  see  what  was  going  on,  but  went  their 
separate  ways,  Forrie  to  a  room  where  he  could  smoke, 
and  his  wife  into  the  dining-room,  where  several  of 
her  set  were  having  punch. 

Little  Jean  Austin,  in  whose  honor  the  party  was 
given,  was  being  led  around  close  to  the  walls  of  the 
room  by  Professor  Struh-La. 

"Where  do  you  now  promenade,  mademoiselle?" 
he  asked  in  capital  English. 

"In  a  garden,"  answered  the  child. 

"Tell  to  me  the  names  of  the  flowers,  and  their 
colors  ?" 

"Red  roses,  yellow  chrysanthemums,  violets " 

"Your  eyes  are  closed,  and  yet  you  see?" 

"My  eyes  are  open.  I  hear  birds  singing,  too,  and 
music,  and  some  one  who  is  fine  and  good  is  leading 
me." 

The  child's  voice  was  plaintive,  her  attitude,  as  she 
fumbled  against  the  walls,  was  almost  piteous.  "I 
want  to  gather  the  flowers  and  catch  the  birds  to  give 
to  the  one  who  leads  me."  So  appealing  was  her 

34 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

aspect  that  no  one  there  even  smiled,  and  they  were 
a  merry  lot. 

Some  one  exclaimed:  "Hypnotism!" 

Struh-La  said:  "No!  Absurd!  Hypnotism?  No, 
I  not  lend  myself  to  that.  I  do  not  experiment  with 
such  a  weapon  even  if  I  possess  it.  I  do  not  possess 
it.  This  is  one  thing  of  great  simplicity  and  in  fre- 
quent custom  in  the  remote  northern  provinces  of 
my  country  among  the  teachers  of  the  young.  We 
call  it  See-foo-tee;  that  is  to  say,  the  spirit  of  sweet- 
ness which  any  one  who  is  so  disposed  can  com-' 
municate  to  another's  mentality.  For  example,  one 
thinks  as  I  have,  of  flowers,  birds,  perfumes,  and  the 
mere  wish  infuses  the  identical  thought  into  the  brain 
of  the  one  who  touches  my  hand.  Did  I  attempt  to 
transfer  to  them  evil  ideas,  the  purity  of  their  minds 
would  repudiate  all  such.  It  is  a  very  small  phe- 
nomenon, hardly  that,  a  gentle  little  lesson  in  the  art 
of  giving  pleasure — that  is  all." 

Struh-La  smiled,  and  proceeded:  "I  will  now  take 
the  little  lady  out  of  the  garden."  He  reached  up 
and  with  his  free  long  hand  attempted  to  move  Jean 
Austin's  fingers  from  the  wall  where  she  had  all  this 
time  been  gathering  imaginary  blossoms  and  holding 
them  to  her  lips  and  breast;  but  he  could  not  do  it; 
the  child  shrieked  when  he  touched  her  even  lightly 

35 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

now,  and  the  other  children  looked  on  open-mouthed, 
while  some  of  the  grown  people  were  plainly  aghast. 

Professor  Struh-La  drew  back  with  folded  arms 
and  surveyed  his  little  experiment  in  See-foo-tee.  He 
smiled,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  nodded  compla- 
cently ;  he  was  an  arch-hypocrite,  perhaps ;  at  any  rate, 
he  did  not  in  the  least  mind  the  piteous  wailing  of 
this  little  enchained  girl.  Reggie,  smoking  in  the  doc- 
tor's office,  heard  it ;  it  struck  in  well  with  his  own 
mood;  he  observed  it  as  having  to  do  with  himself, 
that  it  was  the  requiem  over  his  plunge  in  connection 
with  Bertha  Wilmerding;  so  he  did  not  stir. 

Meantime,  the  professor  said,  especially  directing 
his  remark  to  one  of  the  guests  who  had  openly  de- 
rided See-foo-tee  as  mere  nonsense  which  any  one 
could  do:  "Now  it  is  your  privilege  to  remove  the 
little  girl  from  the  garden  of  flowers,  monsieur." 

The  young  man  who  had  expressed  derision  tried 
to  pull  Jean  Austin  out  of  the  garden,  but  could  not ; 
various  other  men  and  women  essayed  the  same  task 
with  the  same  result.  All  the  children  tried,  yet  from 
the  professor's  garden  the  little  girl  was  not  to  be 
lured.  She  was  now  silent,  tearless,  but  felt  along 
the  wall  and  kissed  it  and  purred  to  it  as  children  will 
to  things  they  love. 

Doctor  Warren  was  called  to  a  patient  in  his  office. 

36 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

He  found  Stevens  there.  He  said :  "Go  into  the  par- 
lor and  try  your  hand  at  waking  Jean  out  of  a  state 
into  which  Struh-La  has  put  her.  Go!  It's  an  inno- 
cent experiment,  or  he  wouldn't  have  done  it>  but  it's 
interesting." 

"Yes,"  Reginald  said,  threw  his  cigar  in  the  fire, 
and  walked  to  the  other  room.  He  entered  and  was 
beside  the  child  with  his  extended  hand  almost  upon 
her  shoulder;  her  eyelids  twitched,  her  little  fingers 
relaxed  a  bit  from  the  wall,  when  Struh-La  made  a 
spring,  laughed  as  he  did  so,  put  himself  between  the 
child  and  the  other  man,  exclaimed: 

"No,  if  you  please,  it  is  impossible,  for  one  who 
does  not  comprehend  the  principles,  to  waken  the  sub- 
ject. Permit  me,  sir."  He  had  Reginald  Stevens  by 
the  hand,  his  right  hand  enclosing  the  right  hand  of 
Stevens ;  with  his  left  he  touched  the  child,  murmuring 
a  few  words  in  Chinese;  she  shuddered  and  clung  the 
more  only  to  the  wall;  Struh-La  then  dropped  Ste- 
vens' hand  and  touched  Jean  with  his  own  right 
hand ;  she  smiled,  grew  lax,  opened  her  eyes,  and  re- 
garded them  all  with  unaffected  curiosity.  It  had 
happened  in  a  few  seconds,  so  few  that  Stevens  had 
no  time  to  speak,  but  he  had  felt  the  issue  from  him 
through  his  finger-tips  to  the  Oriental  of  some  un- 
known spiritual  essence.  At  the  same  moment  he  ex- 

37 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

perienced  a  repulsion  that  was  ridiculous  in  connec- 
tion with  the  agreeable  and  tactful  Mongolian  and 
the  charm  which  he  exercised  over  all  those  present. 
Jean  alone  looked  at  Struh-La,  a  bit  askance ;  her  eyes 
wandered,  found  Stevens,  rested  on  him,  and  she  sat 
quietly  down  near  him  on  a  hassock;  Bertha  Wil- 
merding,  coming  in  from  the  dining-room  where  she, 
Primrose  Palmer,  and  Tommy  Partley  had  been  toning 
up  with  three  or  four  glasses  of  punch  apiece,  found 
her  there,  displaced  her,  and  seated  herself,  as  it  were, 
almost  at  her  newly  acquired  fiance's  feet.  There  was 
something  aggressive  in  Miss  Wilmerding's  motion; 
it  rather  took  away  the  breath  of  the  grown-up  people 
in  the  room,  except  Professor  Sruth-La's — he  was  so 
deeply  occupied  in  playing  with  a  very  small  boy  that 
he  did  not  seem  to  note  anything  else. 

One  of  the  women  nodded  to  Mrs.  Austin  express- 
ively ;  Betty  nodded  back. 

"Really?"  the  woman  said,  rising  and  approaching 
Miss  Wilmerding.  Mr.  Stevens  rose.  "Is  it  so,  dear 
Bertha?"  Bertha  nodded;  her  face  was  flushed  with 
punch.  She  did  not  look  pretty,  her  hair  was  awry 
notwithstanding  the  marcel  treatment;  she  glanced 
up  at  Reggie  and  said: 

"Yes,  we're  engaged." 

All  the  women  crowded  around  and  congratulated 

38 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

them  both.  Bertha  didn't  rise  from  the  Turkish  has- 
sock; she  had  a  fantastic  idea  that  she  looked  pic- 
turesque sitting  on  it,  and  receiving  the  pleasant 
speeches  of  her  friends.  Reggie  did  not  look  at  her; 
he  received  what  was  said  to  him  with  proper  de- 
corum, but  presently  he  got  away  into  the  hall  by 
himself. 

It  came  time  to  go.  Mrs.  Austin  hurried  off,  as 
she  was  due  at  a  dance  at  ten  o'clock. 

"You  fetch  Jean  home,  Forrie,  and  then  come  on 
to  the  Graf  tons',  won't  you?" 

"Jean's  gone  home  with  the  Howards  in  their  om- 
nibus," sang  out  Mr.  Austin. 

"Very  well;  you  bring  Bertha  and  Reggie  along 
then  with  you,  I  must  be  there  on  time." 

"Very  well." 

Every  one  was  going,  many  had  gone.  Miss  Wil- 
merding  stood  in  the  hall,  her  wrap  over  her  arm. 
She  had  declined  the  maid's  offer  to  put  it  on  her 
and  awaited  the  service  at  the  possibly  yearning  hands 
of  Mr.  Stevens.  Finally  he  turned  up,  put  on  the 
cloak,  escorted  her  to  the  carriage,  De  Forrest  Austin 
judiciously  holding  back  to  allow  him  so  to  do;  then 
when  Austin  said:  "Get  in,  Stevens,  get  in!" 

Reggie  said:  "No,  thanks.  If  you  will  permit  me, 
Miss  Wilmerding,  I  will  join  you  later  on.  I  haven't 

39 


THE  FL'AM'E   DANCER 

had  my  usual  amount  of  cigar  to-night,  and  I  really 
should  prove  a  bear  without  it,  so  for  your  own  sake," 
he  smiled  his  rare  smile,  bowed,  shut  the  door,  and, 
lighting  his  cigar,  sauntered  across  alongside  the  Park, 
bareheaded,  and  meaning  to  rejoin  Doctor  Warren 
in  a  few  moments. 

Doctor  Warren  was  called  to  a  patient  a  few  doors 
away;  he  saw  Reggie  under  the  trees  and  whistled 
to  him  shrilly.  Reggie  turned.  "What's  up?" 

"You're  coming  back?"  Stevens  said. 

"Yes,  shortly.  See  here!"  the  physician  crossed 
the  avenue,  joined  his  friend,  and  said  in  an  anxious 
yet  half-laughing  fashion:  "You  didn't  go  on  to  the 
dance,  or  whatever  the  function  was,  with " 

"Miss  Wilmerding?"  finished  Stevens. 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"No.  I'm  returning  to  your  place  for,  not  only 
my  hat  and  topcoat,  but  a  chat  or  a  half-hour's  si- 
lence, if  you  don't  mind?" 

"Old  man!  'Mind?'  Hardly.  Go  back.  I'll  be 
with  you  in  twenty  minutes.  By  the  way,  my  French 
teacher  will  probably  turn  up  before  I  do ;  a  charming 
young  person." 

"Don't  care  to  meet  him  to-night." 

"It's  a  woman,  a  girl,"  Warren  said. 

"A  girl  at  this  time  of  night?"  in  surprise. 

40 


THE  FLrAME  D'ANCER 

"Why  not?  She's  a  very  sensible,  admirable  girl, 
who  is  good  enough  to  come  to  me  whenever  I  say, 
and  whenever  my  profession  will  allow.  She  lives  in 
the  top  apartment  of  my  house." 

Reggie  surveyed  his  friend.  He  did  not  smile.  "I 
see,"  he  ejaculated  in  a  curt  way. 

"No,  you  don't,  dear  old  boy.  Luliani  de  Fontanges 
is  not  quite  any  sort,  I  think,  you've  ever  met.  No," 
he  answered  confidently  to  the  other  man's  flash  of 
the  eyes.  "And  I'd  like  you  to  meet  her;  and  my  sis- 
ter, Mrs.  Austin,  has  just  engaged  her  as  a  resident 
governess  at  the  house  down  on  Seventy-second  Street 
for  my  niece,  Jean.  She's  partly  Oriental  by  birth, 
and  so  falls  in  line  with  Betty's  latest  fad." 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  Neither  said  anything 
further,  but  separated,  the  physician  going  to  his  pa- 
tient, Stevens  turning  toward  the  doctor's  apartment. 
Just  about  as  he  reached  the  corner  the  bell  of  Doctor 
Warren's  apartment  rang  sharply;  the  maid  answered 
it,  smiling  as  she  beheld  the  young  woman  who  stood 
there. 

"Doctor's  out,  mam'selle,  but  he  left  word  he'd  be 
back  in  a  few  minutes.  Will  you  step  in?  We've 
been  having  a  children's  party  here  and  the  place  isn't 
redd  up  yet." 


XHE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 


CHAPTER  III 

MASTER  AND   SLAVE 

THE  young  woman  stepped  in  and  the  maid  left 
her,  after  turning  on  some  more  light,  closing 
the  door  that  led  into  the  hall  as  she  went. 
She  was  a  very  striking-looking  young  woman,  pic- 
turesque, magnetic,  unusual ;  not  too  tall,  very  slender, 
well  rounded  with  an  exquisitely  fine  and  symmetrical 
figure,  a  perfect  throat,  slim  arms,  dainty,  incom- 
parable feet;  none  of  these  points,  unduly  accentuated 
or  revealed  by  either  too  short  sleeves,  short  skirts, 
a  Dutch  neck,  or  an  unlined  corsage.  The  glow  from 
the  electrics  caught  on  her  hair  and  showed  it  to  be 
ftronze  brown;  her  eyebrows  black,  level,  her  eyes 
large,  blue,  and  easily  dilating  and  contracting  with 
her  moods;  her  skin  was  clear  with  red  blood,  vivid, 
and  rushing  to  her  curving  lips  and  girlish  cheeks; 
hands  strong,  supple;  queenly  in  their  gestures  and 
probably  absolute  in  their  grace  of  giving  when  the 
time  might  come.  She  inclined  her  head  as  the  maid 
left  her,  looked  in  a  bit  at  the  debris  of  the  juvenile 
party,  cast  upward  glances  at  the  many  Chinese  lan- 

42 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

terns,  took  off  her  coat  and  gloves,  laid  a  parcel  of 
books  and  papers  she  had  fetched  on  a  table,  and 
stood  before  the  mirror  in  the  pier  surveying  herself. 
The  reflection  did  not  please  her;  she  beheld  herself 
overshadowed,  as  it  were,  by  a  large  Chinese  flag, 
the  black  dragon  with  his  red  claws  on  the  yellow 
ground  seemed  to  be  actually  touching  her  head. 
Doctor  Warren  had  so  arranged  the  emblem  above 
the  mirror  in  honor  of  Professor  Struh-La  and  as 
a  part  of  the  Oriental  decorations  for  Jean's  birth- 
day-party. With  a  quick,  impetuous  movement  she 
raised  her  hand  to  draw  aside  the  Chinese  flag;  the 
bell  rang,  her  hand  fell,  otherwise  she  did  not  move. 
She  knew  it  could  not  be  Doctor  Warren,  as  he 
habitually  used  a  latch-key ;  she  supposed  it  to  be  some 
patient  who  might  or  might  not  be  shown  into  the 
parlor  rather  than  the  office.  She  faced  the  mirror, 
and  in  it  could  see  reflected  the  short  L  of  the  hall 
and  the  front  door,  while  herself  invisible  to  the 
visitor.  The  maid  opened  the  door.  Professor  Struh- 
La,  hat  in  hand,  said: 

"I  ask  pardon;  I  have  left  my  cane,  a  gold-headed 
one,  in  the  drawing-room,  I  think;  I  used  it  in  the 
play  for  the  children  to  guide  the  little  miss  into  the 
garden." 

43 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

The  maid  said:  "Yes,  sir;  sure,  sir;  I'll  look  for: 
it." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself.  I  myself  will  search  for 
it,  thank  you."  He  gave  her  a  quarter,  and  she 
curtsied. 

Luliani  de  Fontanges  saw  all  this  before  her  in  the 
mirror.  Some  of  the  blood  forsook  her  face,  her  eyes 
dilated  and  narrowed,  and  her  hands  caught-  at  her 
heart  side;  then  she  stood  erect  and  her  head  lifted 
defiantly. 

"No  trouble  at  all,  sir;  sure  it's  myself  will  find 
the  cane  for  you.  It  must  be  there." 

Struh-La  now  saw  Miss  de  Fontanges.  He  an- 
swered the  maid:  "I  see  my  cane  there  in  the  corner. 
I  will  not  trouble  you.  I  will  go  in  and  wait  for  the 
doctor — since  he  is  out?" 

"Yes,  sir,  he  is  that,  but  he  left  word  he'd  be  back 
in  twinty  minutes." 

"Very  nice,  thank  you."  He  dismissed  her  with 
ease.  She  went  into  the  kitchen  and  he  into  the 
parlor. 

Miss  de  Fontanges  did  not  turn  her  head,  but  in  the 
looking-glass  her  eyes  met  his. 

"Go  away  from  me,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"No,"  returned  the  professor,  "hardly,  now  that  I 
have  found  you,  mademoiselle."  He  came  quite  close 

44 


W    "EKE    WEAVING    ABuUT    HER   A    WEB   OF   IRRESISTIBLE   FIBER. 

Page  45. 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

to  her,  behind  her,  but  imprisoning  her  glance  firmly; 
by  way  of  the- looking-glass. 

Then  there  was  a  pause;  each  of  these  two  people 
heard  distinctly,  it  seemed  to  them,  the  soft  but  pal- 
pable breathing  of  a  third  person  very  near  them; 
each  glanced  around,  the  Oriental  suspiciously,  the 
half  Oriental  girl,  for  such  she  was,  as  if  looking  for 
harbor.  There  was  no  visible  third  there,  and  each 
instantly  resumed  the  first  pose. 

"I  tell  you,"  Luliani  de  Fontanges  said  slowly,  "you 
must  leave  my  presence  at  once." 

Struh-La  smiled.  "No,"  he  remarked  in  a  soothing 
fashion.  "You  are  too  beautiful  to  leave;  be- 
sides  " 

The  girl  turned  now  from  the  mirror  and  raised 
her  arm.  Struh-La  looked  at  her;  her  arm  fell  at 
her  side.  i 

"Don't!"  she  cried  out  piteously.  "Don't — not 
that!" 

"Just  that,  unless  you  listen  to  reason."  His  eyes 
were  on  her,  weaving  about  her  a  web  of  irresistible 
fibre. 

"We  have  but  a  few  minutes  to  talk,"  he  said 
firmly.  "What  you  have  done  with  yourself  since 
you  managed  to  slip  my  leash,  just  as  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  obtaining  possession  of  the  jewels  and  the 

45 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

talisman  of  the  Flame  Dancers,  I  don't  know;  I  spent 
time  and  money  in  trying  to  trace  you.  I  could  not. 
But  I  felt  sure  that  my  good  time  would  arrive.  It 
has." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  floor. 
Not  an  eyelash  quivered,  not  one  fine  muscle  relaxed. 

"I  obtained  another  tool,"  pursued  the  Chinaman, 
."but  she  was  not  so  useful  as  you.  I  let  her  go  in 
Naples.  I  am  come  to  America,  for  here  the  jewels 
are  and  here  you  will  assist  me." 

"Never!"  the  girl  whispered. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Struh-La  responded,  fixing  his  own  eyes 
upon  her  pleading  ones.  "What  are  you  doing,  here, 
for  instance,"  he  questioned,  "in  the  apartment  of  my 
bachelor  friend,  my  very  intimate  friend,  Doctor 
Warren,  at  this  hour,  without  what  is  called  the 
chaperon?" 

The  girl,  making  a  most  tremendous  effort,  shook 
herself  free  of  his  gaze,  and,  pointing  to  the  door, 
she  said :  "Go"  in  a  tone  of  such  disdain  as  must  have 
quelled  any  man  but  this  particular  one. 

"It  is  stay,"  he  whispered,  approaching  her  very 
closely  and  now  picking  up  in  his  her  beautiful  hand. 
Beneath  those  Eastern  eyes  she  was  limp  once  more; 
beneath  that  touch  she  was  now  not  even  objecting. 
"What  is  the  position  you  occupy?" 

46 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

She  was  silent;  her  will  had  at  least  retained  so 
much  hold  as  that  upon  her  organs. 

"Tell  me,"  the  Chinese  commanded,  pressing  her 
fingers.  The  girl  shuddered,  while  her  great  eyes 
dilated.  "What  are  you  here?" 

"A  teacher  of  French,"  she  answered. 

"Bah !  the  truth !"  he  smiled.     "Give  it  to  me." 

She  nodded.     "That  is  the  truth,  Seng  Chang." 

"Do  not  call  me  so.  I  am  Struh-La,  the  student, 
the  scientist." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  inclined  her  head. 

"This  doctor,  Warren,  loves  you?" 

"No." 

"What  else  do  you  do?" 

"Other  lessons  every  day  and  evening." 

"With  whom  do  you  live?" 

"Up-stairs  on  the  top,  with  a  family  of  honest  peo- 
ple." 

"And  you  intend  to  keep  on  teaching  ?" 

"Yes,  always." 

"Children?  Perhaps  in  the  houses  of  the  wealthy? 
You  have  an  access  to  these  houses?" 

She  hesitated,  as  if  fighting  against  the  force  that 
was  overmastering  her. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  Chinese,  now  taking  up  her  other 
hand  and  piercing  her  forehead  with  his  glance. 

47 


THE   FLAME   D'ANCER 

"I  am  to  be  the  governess  for  the  little  niece  of — • 
Doctor  Warren." 

"For  Jean  Austin!  the  child  of  the  woman  whose 
brother,  Reginald  Stevens,  acquired,  by  means  of  his 
purchases  for  his  railway  in  our  country,  the  sacred 
opals,  the  talisman  also  of  our  tribe?"  Struh-La's 
pale  lips  grew  ruddy,  his  peculiar  eyes  danced  as  he 
spoke.  Luliani  nodded. 

"How  often  are  these  lessons  to  be?" 

"I  am  to  live  there,"  she  replied. 

"When  do  you  go?"  His  words  came  tersely,  as  if 
time  were  too  precious  to  waste  in  the  teeth  of  such 
discoveries  as  he  was  making. 

"Next  Monday." 

"That  is  to  say,  in  four  days?" 

"Yes." 

"And  next  month  there  is  to  be  the  great  mas- 
querade ball  there.  I  believe  all  these  jewels  will  be 
in  evidence.  Mrs.  Austin  will  borrow  them  to  wear. 
You  will  take  them  from  Mrs.  Austin  if  she  wears 
them."  His  mouth  was  close  to  her  ear,  his  hands 
over  hers,  his  voice  the  film  of  sound,  but  it  reached 
to  her  immortal  soul  and  devoured  it. 

"Eh?"  he  touched  her.    "Speak." 

"Yes,"  she  articulated. 

"Urn.  I  thought  so.  Not  for  nothing  I  meet  you 

48 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

r 

i  here  tonight  and  not "  Again  that  mysterious 

breathing  near  these  two  people  made  the  Oriental 
halt,  gave  the  girl  a  resumption  of  self.  She  broke 
away  from  him,  and  fled  across  the  room,  crying 
out: 

"Get  away  quickly.  I  will  kill  you  if  you  don't 
leave  me." 

He  stood  still  and  moved  his  arms  a  little  hover- 
ingly  toward  her;  she  drew  near  to  him. 

"Look  here,"  he  said.  "Now  it  is  even  different 
than  in  Paris,  because,  now  that  I  see  you,  I  love 
you  and  want  you  as  well  for  myself  as  for  my  work, 
you  hear,  my  absolute  duty.  For  which  I  have  trav- 
eled the  whole  world  over,  searching  for  Stevens  and 
the  opals  he  has." 

She  shook  herself  and  broke  again;  she  turned  her 
back  to  him  and  said: 

"You  stole  me  from  my  temple;  you  took  me  to 
the  East  school;  I  had  no  mother,  no  father,  no  one 
cared.  I  was  forgotten.  I  did  your  work.  Now  I 
swear  to  you  if  you  don't  leave  me  alone  I  will  tell 
my  friends  here  you  are  the  man  for  whom  all  the 
police  of  Europe  are  hunting." 

"No,  you  will  not;  for  even  in  your  waking  mo- 
ments you  know  that  I  am  not  a  thief.  That  I  mean 
to  take  certain  sacred  things  which  others  have  stolen 

49 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

from  me  is  true.  We  have  been  separated  for  so 
long,  you  and  I,  that  you  have  forgotten,  and  confuse 
the  nature  of  my  quest  with  what  it  would  appear  to 
be  to  ordinary  eyes.  Now  we  are  starting  afresh ;  this 
thing  which  we  are  to  do  together  is  a  deed  of  daring 
sacrifice  in  behalf  of  the  faith  of  my  ancestors  and 
some  of  yours.  I  am  known  as  Struh-La,  but  I  am 
the  chief  of  the  Flame  Dancers;  and  it  is  my  am- 
bition to  restore  to  its  shrine  the  wonderful  jewels 
which  were  ravished  from  it  three  years  ago  by  this 
iconoclastic  Stevens.  Why  should  I  travel  about  the 
world  and  submit  to  the  forms  of  a  civilization  which 
are  repugnant  to  me  when  my  wealth  enables  me  to 
live  in  the  utmost  luxury  in  the  country  that  is  mine? 
Why  should  I,  with  my  mystic  power,  subject  myself 
to  the  perils  that  attach  to  robbery?  None,  Luliani, 
but  we  resort  to  the  form  of  robbery  in  order  to  ob- 
tain the  flames  of  stone,  for  the  dance  you  used  to 
dance,  Luliani,  can  never  be  complete  without  them. 
You  remember  all  this  now,  and  believe,  do  you  not?" 
His  voice  had  the  sweetness  of  the  harp  he  knew  how 
to  play  upon. 

Miss  de  Fontanges  listened  as  one  in  a  dream,  her 
eyes  intent  upon  Struh-La,  and  when  he  made  hisr 
direct  question,  looking  even  more  persistently  at  her, 
she  inclined  her  head  slowly.  Struh-La  went  on: 

50 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"The  stars  brought  you  to  me,  Luliani,  for  it  would 
be  profane  to  attribute  it  to  coincidence.  Remove 
from  your  mind  all  repugnance  to  doing  my  will.  I 
remind  you  that  in  Europe,  working  together,  you  as 
the  instrument,  we  recovered  a  small  quantity  of  the 
Flame  Dancers'  treasure  which  had  been  obtained  by 
various  individuals.  Luliani,  there  is  only  one  more 
series  to  recover.  They  are  those  which  may  be  worn 
by  Mrs.  Austin  at  her  ball.  And  the  wonderful  talis- 
man is  among  them. 

"You  will  remember  this  when  you  are  awake,  al- 
though I  do  not  make  you  sleep — I  only  make  you 
active.  Listen,  if  you  resist  you  could  not  harm  me; 
here  there  are  those  whose  opinion  you  value,  and  to 
them,  unless  you  hold  our  work  inviolable,  I  will 
prove  that  you  are  the  cleverest  thief,  the  police  say, 
in  Europe." 

"Tell  them!"  she  cried  in  a  louder  tone,  "tell  them 

anything  you  please ;  it  will  be  better  than "  Here 

the  girl's  voice  sank,  as  Struh-La  approached  her,  al- 
ways from  behind,  but  imprisoning  her  glance  with 
his  by  means  of  the  mirror  which  they  both  faced. 

Struh-La  came  much  closer  than  before;  his  hands 
were  on  her  slim  shoulders,  and  while  she  shuddered 
a  peculiar  smile  passed  over  her  scarlet  lips;  his  fin- 
gers crept  up  to  her  white  throat,  and  the  ten  met 


T.HE  FLAME   DANCER 

around  its  loveliness,  still  her  eyes  held  captive  by  his 
in  the  looking-glass ;  his  clutch  grew  gradually  tighter 
and  tighter,  yet  it  did  not  destroy  the  smile  which 
seemed  frozen  on  her  mouth,  her  lids  fluttered,  her 
breath  came  pantingly,  she  trembled  in  every  nerve,  the 
red  blood  in  her  cheeks  and  lips  was  turning  purple 
as  the  grasp  of  the  Eastern  man  closed  closer.  "I 
could  kill  you  as  easily  as  not,"  he  whispered,  "but 
I  am  not  doing  such  foolish  things.  You  promise 
that  you  will  be  guided  by  me  in  these  matters  as  in 
the  past  and  all  will  go  well.  It  is  best  for  you  to 
acquiesce  quietly,  because,  whether  you  do  or  not,  I 
will  conquer  you." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  sank  upon  her  knees,  the  Ori- 
ental bent  with  her,  still  clasping  her  throat,  still  hold- 
ing her  glance. 

"I  do  not  intend  to  take  you  for  myself,"  he  whis- 
pered. "I  intend  that  you  shall  eventually  give  your- 
self to  me  freely.  As  soon  as  we  accomplish  this 
affair  of  the  Stevens  gems,  we  will  go  to  San  Fran- 
cisco and  I  will  enthrone  you  in  a  palace."  His  in- 
describable lips  touched  her  ear,  his  words  pierced 
to  her  very  soul;  with  a  tremulous  gasp,  she  fell 
forward,  and,  had  the  man  not  upheld  her,  she  would 
have  struck  the  floor  with  her  face. 

A  latch-key  was  fitted  in  the  outer  door.  Struh-La 

52 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

withdrew    from    Miss    de    Fontanges   after   he   had 
seated  her  on  a  lounge. 

"Be  quiet,"  he  said  in  a  commanding  way,  "come 
to  your  every-day  self.  I  will  see  you  to-morrow, 
assuredly."  He  slipped  through  the  curtained  arch- 
way to  the  L  of  the  hall;  there  he  halted  a  moment 
to  permit  the  newcomer,  whom  he  could  not  discern, 
to  go  where  he  wished;  this  was  into  the  doctor's 
office  next  to  the  front  door;  then  Struh-La  slid  along 
the  passageway  and  out  into  the  fresh  air,  took  a  car 
at  the  corner,  and  presently  was  eating  chop-suey  in 
the  midst  of  a  gay  crowd  of  his  own  and  our  country- 
men and  women.  The  change  from  what  he  had 
just  left,  to  the  garishness  of  this  next  entourage 
whetted  this  intellect  of  his,  which  was  a  most  ex- 
traordinary and  brilliant  one. 


53 


tZH£  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    ONE    WOMAN 

MEANTIME,    on    the    couch,    Miss    de    Fon- 
tanges  sat  recovering  her  lost  equilibrium. 
She    shivered,    laughed,    grew   cold,    warm, 
wept,  and  in  an  agony  of  tears  buried  her  face  in  the 
pillows,  while  the  newcomer  slowly  came  down  the 
hall  and  walked  into  the  room.     She  heard  the  foot- 
steps, supposed  it  to  be  a  patient  for  Doctor  Warren, 
and  looked  up.    Waving  her  hand,  she  said: 

"The  office  is  the  door  next  the  front  door.     The 
doctor  will  be  in  in  a  few  moments  now."    She  could 
not  control  the  convulsive  sob  which  shook  her  voice. 
The  newcomer  advanced  toward  her,  saying: 
"I  know  he  will.    He  told  me  to  come  in,  and  that 
I  should  find  his  French  teacher  here.     Are  you — the 
French  teacher?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  simply.  "I  am." 
Reginald  Stevens  looked  at  her.  By  the  light  of 
the  candles  in  the  Chinese  lanterns  strung  around 
the  room  he  beheld  the  most  beautiful,  seductive,  and 
sad  woman  he  had  ever  encountered — and  his  en- 
counters with  women  had  not  been  few. 

54 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"You  will  pardon  me,"  he  ejaculated.  "What  has 
occurred?  Can  I  do  anything  for  you?  Has  any- 
thing frightened  you  here?"  He  looked  around  the 
place,  and  found  it  just  as  he  had  left  it  a  half-hour 
before. 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered.  "You  can  do  noth- 
ing for  me."  An  impetuous  sob  choked  her,  and  she 
put  her  face  down  once  more  in  the  cushions. 

"Oh!"  he  cried  under  his  breath.  He  approached 
her,  he  knelt  by  the  couch,  he  looked  at  her  bent  head, 
the  long  fine  curve  of  her  throat  and  shoulders,  her 
back,  to  the  small  foot  that  was  clear  of  petticoats  and 
plain  to  be  seen.  "But  I  must  be  able  to  do  some- 
thing. I  am  Reginald  Stevens,  a  friend  of  Doctor 
Warren's.  It's  sometimes  a  relief  to  tell  even  a  per- 
fect stranger,  when  one's  in  trouble.  Won't  you  tell 
me?"  He  longed  with  a  curious  impulse  to  lay  his 
hand  upon  her  glorious  hair,  to  beg  for  her  confidence, 
to  compel  her  to  raise  her  head  and  give  him  her  eyes ; 
in  short,  without  wasting  one  more  word,  this  man 
loved  this  woman  then  and  there,  and  for  a  few  sec- 
onds there  seethed  in  him  the  fundamental  instinct  to 
take  her  to  himself  and  tell  her  why  afterward.  But  the 
twentieth  century  and  New  York  had  him  so  far  in 
leash  that  he  did  not  follow  primeval  leads ;  instead,  he 
picked  up  a  fold  of  her  gown  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

55 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

Did  she  feel  this  touch? 

A  thrill  of  hitherto  unknown  rapture  swept  through 
her  being;  with  it  came  into  her  brain  the  supreme 
exaltation  of  caring  for.  She  cared,  cared  to  be 
thought  well  of,  to  be  good,  to  have  this  human  being 
beside  her  know  that  the  life  she  had  lived  had  been 
mostly  a  compulsory  lie;  cared  to  be  once  more  the 
child  she  had  been  when  the  Oriental  had  taken  her 
from  her  French  convent  at  Passy  back  to  her  Eastern 
birthplace  and  compelled  her  to  become  the  chief 
flame  dancer;  cared  to  struggle  for  all  the  best  within 
her.  It  was  like  awaking  to  a  new  life  and  world; 
and  all  this  with  remorse  and  dread  of  the  past  and 
the  future,  as  planned  for  her  but  now  by  Struh-La: 
all  this  toward  a  man  whose  face  she  had  not  yet 
seen. 

She  sighed. 

Stevens  said  gently,  still  holding  the  bit  of  her  frock 
between  his  fingers:  "Please  let  us  become  a  bit  ac- 
quainted, won't  you?"  At  this  instant  he  experienced 
a  peculiar  dread  lest  Warren  should  get  back  before 
he  had  seen  her  face  to  face,  and  had  her  see  him. 
His  voice  was  pleading:  "Please?" 

"Oh,"  she  answered.  "I  think  not.  You  had  better 
go  away  and  come  to  see  the  doctor  when  I  ana  not 
here.  After  this  week,  I  shall  not  Be  here." 

56 


THE   FL'AME   D'ANCER 

"You  are  going  away?  Where?"  His  question 
was  not  only  impetuous,  but  imperative;  it  delighted 
her ;  their  eyes  met.  There  was  silence  between  them ; 
each  was  absorbing  the  complete  fact  of  the  other's 
existence.  He  was  still  on  his  knees  beside  her;  she 
saw  that  he  was;  it  made  her  happy.  In  one  wild 
moment  she  thought  to  confess  her  all  to  him,  and 
thus  escape  forever  from  danger  into  the  country  of 
an  eternal  peace;  but  balance  and  realities  rushed  in 
and  prevented  her  doing  anything  as  wise  as  this 
would  have  been.  She  looked  into  his  eyes,  sighed, 
and  withdrew  herself,  rose,  walked  away  to  the  win- 
dow, and  glanced  out. 

He  followed  her  quickly.  "Tell  me  where  you  are 
going,  I  beg  of  you?"  he  asked. 

She  laughed  a  bit  recklessly,  but  not  mirthfully. 
"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  "you  don't  even  know  my 
name,  it  seems,  and  ask  where  I  am  going!" 

"No,  I  don't  know  your  name;  Warren  did  not 
mention  it.  What  is  it?" 

"Luliani  de  Fontanges." 

"Luliani."  He  repeated  it  after  her  with  a  caress- 
ing cadence  and  a  trifle  of  interrogation.  "It  is 
French?"  he  suggested. 

"Not  altogether,"  she  responded,  smiling  in  recog- 

57 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

nition  of  his  persistence  and  taking  no  offense  at  it. 
"I  was  born  in  the  Orient,  although  I  lived  there  but 
a  few  years." 

"Abroad?"  he  said  eagerly. 

"Yes,  abroad:  in  England  for  four  years,  in  the 
East  for  ten,  in  France  for  ten,  here  for  two." 

"Twenty-six,"  he  said.     "I  am  thirty-nine." 

She  said  nothing. 

"And  you  are  a  teacher  of  French?" 

"Yes." 

"Now,  where  are  you  going?"  He  laughed  a  bit 
down  at  her,  his  insatiable  expression  as  keen  as  be- 
fore. 

"To  be  resident  governess  to  little  Miss  Austin, 
Doctor  Warren's  niece." 

"Oh,  Jean!" 

"Yes,  Jean  is  her  name." 

"Then  you  are  not  going  away !"  he  said  joyously. 
"You  are  to  be  right  here  in  New  York,  where  I  live, 
too." 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"I  am  glad  we  have  met."  Reggie  spoke  very  low. 
"I  never  dreamed  of  meeting  you." 

"How  could  you!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  I  never  believed  I  should  meet  a  woman 
such  as  you." 

58 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"What  do  you  know  of  me?"  She  said  it  almost 
harshly. 

"I  know  that  you  are  the  best  and  truest,  the  purest 
and  noblest " 

"Hush,"  she  cried,  putting  up  her  hands  before  her 
face.  "Hush !  One  cannot  know  another  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour." 

"But  one  can,"  he  asserted  hotly,  and  again  primal 
forces  rushed  to  the  fore,  and  he  was  minded  to  take 
this  strange  woman,  crush  her  to  his  heart,  bind  her 
to  him  with  all  the  words  and  oaths  he  knew,  and 
make  her  his  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man  as  soon 
as  he  could.  He  did  not  touch  so  much  as  her  hand, 
but  yet  she  too  felt  the  rush  of  primal  things,  the  ele- 
mentary woman  going  out  palpitating  to  meet  his  de- 
manding arms. 

For  a  second,  just  so  long  as  it  takes  the  clock  to 
make  one  tick,  she  was  near  to  granting  what  he 
asked ;  then  they  both  heard  that  odd  breathing  which 
had  twice  arrested  Struh-La's  movements  earlier  in 
the  evening.  Their  glances  met,  she  withdrawing  a 
bit;  each  questioned  the  other;  the  girl  startled  but 
not  afraid. 

"There  is  some  one  here  besides  ourselves!"  he  ex- 
claimed, turning  sharply  and  searching  behind  por- 
tieres, doors,  and  the  piano. 

59 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"No!"  answered  Miss  de  Fontanges.  "I  am  sure 
not.  One  has  delusions,  and  twice  before  this  eve- 
ning I  was  positive  I  heard  breathing  very  near  me." 

"Well!"  Stevens  now  laughed  as  he  held  up  and 
aside  the  draperies  which  swathed  Warren's  piano. 
"Look!  You  certainly  had  no  delusion.  Jean!" 

Miss  de  Fontanges  sprang  forward,  to  behold  the 
little  Austin  girl  drowsily  wakening,  curled  up  on  the 
floor  behind  the  piano  and  hidden  by  the  cloth  which 
each  one  who  had  passed  that  way  had  dragged  a  bit 
more  and  more  over  her  with  the  touch  of  fabric  to 
fabric. 

"Jean!"  Miss  de  Fontanges  stooped  and  moved 
her  prospective  pupil  gently.  "How  odd  no  one 
should  have  missed  the  child?"  She  looked  at  Ste- 
yens.  "Isn't  it?" 

"Rather,  and  yet,  no.  Her  mother  went  away  early 
to  some  function  or  other;  her  father  left  a  little  later 
for  a  club  meeting.  I  suppose  each  fancied  the  other 
had  charge  of  Jean." 

Jean,  now  quite  awake,  laughed  as  she  looked  out 
on  the  deserted  parlor  and  heard  herself  and  her  sit- 
uation portrayed  by  Stevens. 

"You're  right,  Mr.  Stevens,  I  imagine,"  she  said. 
She  had  much  aplomb  and  was  quite  fit  in  many  ways 
to  take  her  glace  in  society  at  that  very  moment, 

60 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

.which  she  easily  demonstrated  by  adding,  as  she  rather 
affectionately  took  Miss  de  Fontanges'  hand:  "This 
is  Miss  de  Fontanges,  Mr.  Stevens.  Mr.  Stevens, 
Miss  de  Fontanges,  who  is  to  be  my  governess  begin- 
ning next  week."  The  inflection  of  difference  of  posi- 
tion, if  not  quite  of  caste,  in  the  juvenile  voice  was 
admirable,  and  her  nicety  in  presenting  the  woman  to 
the  man  under  these  social  conditions  was  not  unob- 
served by  either  of  them.  It  made  Stevens  wince;  it 
made  Miss  de  Fontanges  smile. 

As  she  made  an  inclination  toward  the  man,  she 
as  gently  indicated  to  the  child  that  she  had  better 
rise  from  the  floor,  which  she  did.  Miss  de  Fontanges 
sat  down  on  the  couch  at  one  end,  Stevens  promptly 
seated  himself  at  the  other. 

"They  will  be  coming  for  you  soon,  Miss  Jean,  I 
'fancy,"  the  governess  said. 

"If  they  don't,  Mr.  Stevens  will  have  to  take  me 
home  in  his  machine;  will  you?"  she  asked.  He  in- 
clined his  head.  She  smiled  a  little  in  a  girlish  way, 
surveying  the  space  between  them  on  the  lounge.  "Is 
there  room  for  me  there?" 

"Certainly,"  the  man  answered. 

Luliani  held  out  her  hand;  the  little  girl  sat  down, 
and,  keeping  Luliani's  hand  in  hers,  she  laid  her  head 
On  the  governess'  shoulder;  then  the  telephone-bell 

61 


THE  FLAME  DA.NCER 

rang  violently  in  the  doctor's  office.     Stevens  rose  to 
answer  it;  presently  he  came  back. 

"They  want  to  know  if  you  are  here,"  he  laughed 
toward  the  child.  "I  told  them."  He  sat  down 
again.  There  was  potent  charm  to  him  in  sitting 
there  with  Luliani,  and  the  little  girl  between  them. 

"Who  wanted  to  know?"  Jean  asked. 

"Your  mother." 

"Mother  never  speaks  over  the  phone  if  she  can 
help  it,"  exclaimed  Jean.  "She  detests  it." 

"She  did  not  speak,"  Stevens  said. 

"Oh,  one  of  the  servants?" 

"No;  it  was  Miss  Wilmerding." 

"Oh!"  Jean  with  wide  eyes  regarded  Mr.  Stevens. 
Her  mother  had  always  talked  in  her  presence  quite 
as  if  Jean  had  not  been  gifted  with  ears.  Stevens 
felt  annoyed,  and,  to  counteract  this,  for  he  had,  up 
to  the  telephone  moment,  entirely  forgotten  even  the 
existence  of  such  a  person  as  Bertha  Wilmerding,  he 
drew  nearer  to  Jean,  thus  to  Miss  de  Fontanges,  on 
the  couch,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  little  girl's  head, 
which  still  reposed  on  Luliani's  shoulder. 

Jean  laughed  merrily  as  she  inquired:  "Mr.  Ste- 
vens, did  Miss  Bertha  recognize  your  voice  over  the 
wire?" 

"I  think  so,"  he  replied,  stroking  her  hair. 

62 


THE   FL'AME  D'ANCER 

"Then,"  cried  the  child,  "bet  you  a  pound  of 
ler's  to  a  box  of  cigars,  clear  Havanas,  too,  Miss  Ber- 
tha'll  be  here  after  me!" 

"Done!"  he  laughed,  leaning  nearer  now  toward 
the  child  and  the  woman,  who  alone  of  the  trio  had 
heard  the  bell  sound,  an  entering  footstep,  a  swish  ofj 
silks  along  the  hall,  as  Miss  Wilmerding,  ushered  by 
the  maid,  appeared  in  the  entrance  arch. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  newly  arrived  young  wom- 
an, in  a  rather  warm  tone,  as  she  surveyed  the  verjf 
picturesque  group. 

It  was  a  curious  situation;  for  a  second  or  two  no 
one  said  anything;  then  Jean  cried  out,  laughing: 

"I  say,  I'm  in  a  pound  of  Huyler's,  Miss  Bertha, 
and  Mr.  Stevens  is  out." 

Stevens  then  moved  a  chair  an  inch  as  he  looked 
at  the  girl  he  was  engaged  to. 

Miss  de  Fontanges  was  silent. 

"This  is  my  new  governess,  Miss  Bertha;  Miss  de 
Fontanges,  Miss  Wilmerding." 

Luliani  bowed.  Miss  Wilmerding  said :  "Ah,"  with 
a  nod,  and  turning  to  Stevens  added:  "I'll  not  sit 
down,  thank  you;  hardly;  I  came  in  Mrs.  Austin's 
place — she  was  too  worried  to  stir — to  fetch  Jean 
home."  Her  tone  was  a  bit  severe,  not  only  distinct 

63 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

disapproval,  as  was  quite  natural,  but  also  decided 
imputation. 

"It  was  unnecessary,  as  I  tried  to  tell  you  over  the 
wire;  I  was  going  to  take  Jean  home  quite  safely. 
You  should  not  have  troubled  yourself."  Stevens 
spoke  with  the  suavity  which  had  caused  so  many 
hapless  women  to  fancy  he  cared  for  them. 

"I  thought,"  stammered  Bertha,  "that  Doctor  War- 
ren was  certainly  here,  or  I  should  not  have  come." 

"I  told  you — or  tried  to,"  smiled  Reggie  imper- 
turbably,  "that  he  was  not  got  back  from  a  call  down 
the  street."  At  that  moment  Doctor  Warren's  key 
sounded  in  the  latch. 

"Pshaw!"  the  physician  cried  outside  cheerily,  "no, 
Austin,  the  child  isn't  here  at  all ;  she  went  home  with 
her  mother  and  Bertha." 

Jean  danced  up  and  down  with  joy  at  the  excite- 
ment she  was  creating. 

"I  tell  you,"  replied  De  Forrest  Austin  hotly,  "she  is 
here.  Reggie  told  Bertha  over  the  phone,  and  Bertha 
must  be  here,  too !" 

"I  say!"  Warren  exclaimed,  as  he  and  Austin  came 
into  the  drawing-room  and  Jean  pirouetted  up  to  her 
father.  "Well,  well,  well,  permit  me  to  present  you 
to  Miss  de  Fontanges,  Mr.  Reginald  Stevens,  Miss 
Wilmerding,  Miss  de  Fontanges." 

64 


THE  FL'AME   D'A'NCER 

Bertha  said  stoically:  "Jean  has  already  presented 
her  governess  to  me." 

In  the  click  of  an  eye  both  De  Forrest  Austin  and 
Leopold  Warren  felt  the  situation.  Into  it  Jean's  fa- 
ther darted  as  he  came  out  of  his  surprise  at  behold- 
ing Luliani  de  Fontanges.  He  had  never  seen  her 
before. 

"What  have  I  done,  doc,  that  I  should  not  be  pre- 
sented also  to — my  Jean's  governess?" 

Warren  cried  out,  glad  of  an  interruption  to  the 
cloudy  atmosphere:  "Mr.  Austin,  Miss  de  Fontanges 
— Miss  de  Fontanges,  Mr.  Austin,"  and  then  Luliani 
rose. 

"I  am  most  happy" — she  spoke  with  dignity  and  a 
thorough  valuation  of  her  position — "to  be  presented 
to  my  future  employer,  the  father  of  my  little  pupil." 
She  was  holding  the  child's  hand,  for  Jean  had  gone 
back  to  her  after  rallying  around  her  father  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two  only. 

Austin  bowed:  he  knew  he  had  never  in  his  life 
met  a  woman  like  this  one  before:  it  came  to  him 
rather  as  a  shock,  and  yet  he  plunged  into  futurity 
with  her  at  once.  Forrie  had  had  so  many  pasts  that 
he  was  hardly  to  be  blamed  for  being  always  on  the 
lookout  for  a  future;  besides,  he  had  capacity,  which 
neither  his  wife  nor  any  one  else  had  ever  put  into 

65 


THE  ELAME  DANCER 

commission,  and  he  knew  it.  Luliani  turned  now  to 
Doctor  Warren,  dismissing  the  little  girl  with  a  ges- 
ture, to  seek  her  coat. 

"Will  you  take  your  lesson  to-night,  Doctor  War- 
ren? Is  it  not  too  late — and  your  guests?"  Miss  de 
iFontanges  defined  herself  completely.  Stevens  looked 
at  her  in  breathless  delight;  every  second  she  satis- 
fied him  the  more ;  as  opportunities  occurred,  she  filled 
them  exquisitely;  as  awkwardnesses  arrived,  she 
turned  them  into  easy  paths:  she  was  to  be  admired, 
and  that  is  a  vast  deal. 

"Oh,"  Bertha  said,  actually  looking  at  the  other 
girl;  "so  you  give  Doctor  Warren  lessons,  do  you?" 
She  did  try,  under  fire  of  Stevens'  eyes,  to  speak 
civilly. 

"Yes,"  Luliani  volunteered,  "in  French — twice  a 
week." 

"I  see.  Trench!'  But  you  are  not  French,  or — 
are  you?"  essaying  the  easy  conversational  tone,  while 
Jean  came  to  her  governess  to  have  her  coat  buttoned. 

"No,  I  am  not.  I  am  of  Eastern  birth.  I  have 
lived  in  several  countries." 

"You  look  so.  Come  here,  Jean  love ;  let  me  tie 
your  hood  for  you." 

"No,"  said  Jean.    "Not  much!" 

"Jean!"  cried  the  father  remonstratingly. 

66 


THE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 

"Why  should  I?"  inquired  Jean  pertly.  "When  I 
asked  Miss  Bertha  to  do  my  sash  for  me  this  evening, 
she  was  alone  in  uncle's  office,  and  she  said  she 
wouldn't  do  it ;  now  when  you're  all  here,  all  you  men, 
I  mean,  she  wants  to  appear  nice  and  sweet !  Tie  my 
hood;  no,  sir!" 

Jean  stamped  off;  she  was  what  is  called  a  spoiled 
child;  her  parent  laughed.  Bertha  tried  to.  Warren 
said:  "Miss  de  Fontanges,  please,  I  certainly  do  want 
my  lesson  this  evening,  if  it's  not  too  late  for  you?" 

"No,  not  at  all."  The  doctor  went  into  the  hall  with 
Mr.  Austin  and  Jean,  who  had  made  their  good-bys. 
Stevens,  Bertha,  and  Miss  de  Fontanges  remained  in 
the  drawing-room. 

There  was  a  halt;  none  of  them  spoke  for  a  half- 
minute,  perhaps,  which  the  governess  occupied  in  seat- 
ing herself  with  her  back  quite  to  the  other  two, 
taking  up  her  books  and  pencil,  and  evidently  absorb- 
ing herself  in  her  profession. 

Miss  Wilmerding  looked  at  her  new  fiance ;  her  new 
fiance  stood  at  attention  by  the  door. 

"Are  you  coming  with  me?"  she  asked,  for  his  hat 
and  coat  still  lay  upon  a  chair. 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Suppose  you  do  think  of  it,  then."  She  laughed 
uneasily  as  she  laid  a  possessive  hand  upon  his  arm. 

67 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked,  to  gain  time,  for 
he  knew  well  enough. 

"Why,  back  home  to  the  Austins'  for  supper,  you 
know;  come."  Bertha  was  making  a  season's  visit  to 
Betty. 

"I'm  not  a  bit  fit  to-night,"  he  replied.  "Austin  will 
take  you  home.  I  should  spoil  everything.  I'm  out  of 
sorts." 

"Nonsense!"  she  cried  under  her  breath.  Then  she 
pulled  him  by  the  sleeve  out  into  the  hall  to  the  L, 
which  broke  her  voice  and  view  from  the  other 
woman.  "Tell  me,  what  is  this  de  Fontanges  woman 
to  you,  eh?  I  have  a  right  to  know.  You  have  given 
me  the  right.  I  insist  upon  knowing." 

Stevens  laughed  in  a  lazy  fashion.  "My  dear  Ber- 
tha," he  answered,  in  his  soul  a  reverent  care  for  the 
other  woman,  "I  never  saw  Miss  de  Fontanges  before 
in  my  life.  Don't  be  quite  a  fool,  and  remember  that 
she  is  a  lady ;  you  who  are  so  clever  at  denoting  social 
lines  should  have  been  able  to  see  so  much.  Mrs. 
Austin  is  fortunate  in  having  secured  such  a  governess 
for  Jean." 

"Is  she  ?  You're  not  coming  home  with  me,  though, 
are  you?"  she  asked  succinctly. 

"No,"  he  said,  "if  you  will  pardon  me,  I  am  not." 

68 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Good  night."  She  rather  held  up  her  mouth  to 
receive  his  first  kiss. 

"Good  night,"  he  echoed  pleasantly,  looking  at  her 
with  quiet  eyes. 

"Come  along,  Bertha!"  sang  out  Mr.  Austin,  "un- 
less you  and  Reggie  are  going  to  say  good-by  all 
night.  Isn't  he  coming,  too,  though?  I  forgot" 

"No,  he  isn't."     Bertha  jumped  into  the  car. 

"Not  to-night;  thanks,  old  man."  Reggie  spoke 
for  himself  as  he  placed  the  robe  over  his  fiancee. 
"Give  my  best  to  Betty,  and,"  this  to  Miss  Wilmer- 
ding,  but  with  unlowered  voice,  "I'll  ring  you  up  in 
the  morning,  Bertha,  and  find  out  how  you  and  Bettyj 
are." 

The  auto  buzzed,  whizzed,  and  went  away. 


69 


XHE.  F.LAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  CALL  OF  THE   MAGIC   HARP 

IT  was  already  the  post-Easter  season,  and  the  prin- 
cipal topic  of  conversation  in  certain  sets  in  town 
/  was  Mrs.  Austin's  costume  ball,  which  was  to 
come  off  on  the  second  Wednesday  after  Easter,  about 
three  months  later  than  the  little  party  which  Doctor 
Warren  had  given  for  his  goddaughter  Jean.  Jean 
and  her  governess  had  been  getting  on  famously,  and 
the  child,  as  her  mother  remarked,  seemed  to  be  clearly 
fonder  of  Miss  de  Fontanges  than  she  had  ever  been 
of  any  one  before:  the  teacher  and  the  pupil  were 
more  constantly  together  than  is  usually  the  case. 
Miss  de  Fontanges  did  not  want  those  afternoons  for 
outings  that  all  Miss  Jean's  previous  preceptresses  had 
yearned  for,  and  had.  This  latest  one  never  went  out 
of  the  house  alone  under  any  pretext,  and  when  cir- 
cumstances pointed  that  she  should,  she  invariably 
found  a  pretext  to  stay  at  home.  She  drove  in  the 
park  or  rode,  for  she  was,  it  proved,  a  fair  horse- 
woman, with  her  young  charge  and  a  groom  every 

Sday.    Occasionally   Mr.   Austin   joined  them  there  j 

70 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

twice  Mr.  Stevens  had  done  the  same  thing;  but 
neither  one  received  encouragement  from  Miss  de 
Fontanges.  She  was  constantly  asked  by  Mrs.  Austin, 
in  the  nicest  sort  of  a  way,  too,  to  come  down  for 
various  functions,  and  she  had  poured  tea  once ;  taken 
a  small  part  in  private  theatricals  when  Primrose 
Palmer  had  fallen  ill  with  mumps;  filled  up  a  lacking 
bridge  table,  and  twice  sat  out  dinners.  She  had  been 
at  all  the  opera  matinees  with  Jean,  and  here  Stevens 
had  seen  her;  but  as  soon  as  she  had  learned  of  his 
engagement  she  had  no  conversation  with  him  beyond 
the  most  formal.  Yet  she  clung  to  him  in  her  mind. 
Equally  the  professor  clung  to  her  with  the  tenacity 
of  his  race,  added  to  the  peculiar  tenacity  of  this  par- 
ticular man.  Struh-La  had  succeeded  in  ingratiating 
himself  thoroughly  into  the  Austin  household,  no  mem- 
ber of  which  said  him  nay  save  only  Jean. 

She  said,  notwithstanding  rebukes:  "He  makes  me 
shudder.  I  don't  see  how  mother  can  look  at  him  so 
very  sweetly  and  listen  to  his  music."  Struh-La 
knew  it,  but  he  was  uncaring.  His  plans  were  work- 
ing to  their  climax,  and  while  he  did  not  obtrude  him- 
self upon  Luliani  de  Fontanges,  he  contrived  to  keep 
her  aware  both  of  his  designs  and  his  peculiar  ad- 
miration. Luliani  shunned  him  as  much  as  she  could, 
but  the  strange  oriental  spirit  held  its  sway  over  her 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

sensitized  soul.  Apparently  she  might  have  told  all 
and  held  good  her  position ;  might  have  revealed  every- 
thing to  either  De  Forrest  Austin  or  Reginald  Stevens, 
and  the  Chinese  must  have  come  to  a  degree  of  grief; 
but  Struh-La  so  thralled  her  that  her  free  agency  was 
problematic. 

Just  at  seven  o'clock  of  the  ball  night,  after  an 
atrociously  early  dinner,  a  group  of  people  attired  in 
all  the  splendor  of  the  days  of  the  various  Louis  were 
rehearsing  the  quadrille  of  honor  in  the  ballroom  of 
the  Austins'  house,  under  the  supervision  of  Signor 
Maretti,  who  had  been  engaged  to  coach  them;  the 
photographer  was  waiting  with  his  flash-lights  to 
make  their  pictures;  Tommy  Partley  and  Primrose 
Palmer  were  in  the  highest  spirits;  so  was  every  one. 
Jean  and  her  governess  were  seated  in  the  little  gal- 
lery built  out  from  the  first  landing  of  the  grand  stair- 
case, comfortably  screened  by  the  rich  dark  curtains. 
This  tiny  alcove  had  been  a  whim  of  Betty  Austin's 
when  she  was  a  girl;  for  the  house  was  hers,  of 
course ;  her  husband  had  never  owned  anything  in  his 
life,  except  his  clothes  and  the  jewelry  his  wife  had 
lavished  upon  him.  The  little  gallery,  then,  had  been 
Betty's  whim,  built  by  an  overindulgent  father  to  meet 
the  demands  of  a  daughter  who  liked  a  romantic  spot 
in  which  "to  let  men  propose  to  her!"  as  she  put  it. 

72 


The  gallery  was  built  for  two,  cushioned  and  car- 
peted, hung  and  dimly  lighted  for  two,  and  once  in  it, 
as  everybody  who  has  been  in  it  knows,  one  was  com- 
pletely hidden  from  everybody  in  the  ballroom,  the 
drawing-room,  or  the  musicians'  gallery  at  the  other 
end  of  the  suite. 

"Now,"  said  Jean,  "just  look  at  those  women,  will 
you,  Miss  de  Fontanges  ?  Frumps !  The  idea !  Over 
a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  aged  over  forty-five,  get- 
ting themselves  up  as  Marie  Antoinettes,  shepherd- 
esses, and  nymphs,  and  naiads  and  sylphs  and  Queen 
Louises." 

Luliani  laughed. 

"I  tell  you!  Mother  and  Miss  Bertha  are  wise; 
they're  not  getting  photoed  in  any  groups;  but  I  sup- 
pose that  crowd,"  Jean  indicated  contempt  by  her 
juvenile  lip,  "are  just  delighted  to  get  themselves  into 
a  paper  to-morrow  morning." 

"They  must  be  used  to  it  by  this  time,  don't  you 
think?" 

"Yes,  one  would  think,"  replied  the  precocious 
child;  "but  getting  into  print,  with  our  set,  is  like 
eating  one's  breakfast;  they  like  it  every  morning  of 
their  lives." 

"Miss  Palmer  looks  very  pretty,  I'm  sure,"  said 
the  governess. 

73 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Yes,  Tommy  Partley  thinks  so,  anyway.  Hello!" 
Jean  looked  out  from  her  unsuspected  perch  and  fired 
a  rose  at  Mr.  Partley's  helmet;  he  was  endeavoring 
to  represent  a  Suisse. 

"I  say!"  cried  the  young  fellow,  as  the  child  drew 
back  into  ambush.  "Fire  away;  roses  don't  often 
come  my  way." 

"Thorns  do,  I  suppose,"  exclaimed  Primrose 
Palmer.  "Do  say  something,  Tommy.  You  look  so 
empty." 

"The  boys  say  I'm  generally  full,  however." 

"Hush!" 

"Fact." 

Then  some  one  back  of  the  chattering,  rehearsing 
crowd  began  to  snap  the  strings  of  a  harp :  a  few 
chords  only,  and  all  the  crowd  of  revelers  were 
hushed,  as  this  weird  music  sounded  out  from  'way 
back  of  the  screens  in  the  last  room  of  the  long, 
splendid  row. 

Miss  de  Fontanges  quivered  in  every  nerve,  her  eye- 
lids fluttered,  her  fingers  grew  tense ;  notwithstanding, 
she  rose,  and  with  a  motion  that  was  more  like  float- 
ing than  walking,  she  was  quitting  her  pupil,  when 
the  little  girl,  herself  with  keenly  overwrought  nerves, 
seized  her  governess  by  the  two  arms  and  pulled  her 
down  into  her  seat.  "You  mustn't  go !  you  must  stog 

74 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

and  hear  it.  Such  music!  It's — it's — well,  it  isn't 
divine" — Jean  Austin  laughed — "but  it's  the  kind  of 
music  I  guess  the  devil's  musicians  play  to  him  down 
in  hell — it's  beautiful  and  awful.  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges,  look!  It's  Professor  Struh-La  playing  moth- 
er's harp.  Look!  Mother's  going  up  close  to  him. 
She  looks  bewitched,  doesn't  she?  Her  eyes  look 
queer." 

Some  one  had  moved  the  screens  aside,  and  there 
sat  Struh-La,  playing  on  Mrs.  Austin's  harp  as  no 
earthly  harp  had  ever  been  played  on  before.  He 
looked  through  and  beyond  the  gasping  crowd  of  the 
rehearsing  guests  to  the  little  alcove  on  the  staircase 
landing,  and  Luliani  de  Fontanges'  eyes  met  and  were 
drunk  up  by  the  glance  of  his :  and  Betty  Austin  flut- 
tered near  him  in  an  odd  way,  too. 

"Ugh!"  shuddered  Jean,  "but  he  has  power.  Come, 
let  us  go  away.  You  don't  care  to  stop,  do  you,  dear 
Miss  de  Fontanges?  We'll  have  our  own  good  time 
up  in  the  study,  and  mother  says " 

But  the  music  went  on,  and  Jean  felt  her  governess 
slipping  from  her  grasp  to  the  floor.  She  was  a 
grown-up,  worldly-wise  child,  and  she  sprang  out  of 
the  little  alcove  to  get  help.  At  the  threshold  she 
encountered  Reginald  Stevens ;  he  was  in  a  costume  of 
the  Louis  XIV.  time;  an  unlighted  cigar  was  in  his 

75 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

hand;  he  was  on  his  way  down  to  the  billiard-room 
to  join  Austin  and  a  lot  of  other  men  for  a  game  of 
poker  before  the  ball  began. 

"Mr.  Stevens,  come  in  here,  please,"  Jean  whis- 
pered. "Something's  up  with  Miss  de  Fontanges, 
and  you  can  help  me  a  bit  if  you  will." 

Reggie  dropped  his  cigar.  Jean  drew  the  curtains 
close  and  pointed  to  Luliani  upon  the  floor  with  her 
head  resting  on  the  cushions  of  the  tiny  sofa. 

"She's  fainted,  I  guess.  I  don't  want  to  make  a 
row.  Can  you  carry  her  up  to  the  study  one  flight, 
and  there's  no  one  about  just  now?" 

"Can  I!"  Stevens  knelt  and  chafed  her  hands  and 
head.  Jean  held  the  curtains. 

"I'm  coming,"  broke  from  Miss  de  Fontanges'  lips. 

"She  has  not  fainted,"  Reggie  said,  raising  her  a 
bit 

"I  do  believe  it's  that  Chinese  man's  music  that's 
affected  her,"  cried  the  little  girl.  "Just  hear  it!" 

Stevens  paused  with  her  exquisite  weight  resting 
upon  his  knee  and  arms.  It  was  most  positively  un- 
like him  to  pause  at  any  such  time  for  any  such  cause, 
or  for  any  cause  at  all,  but  the  insidious  suggestive- 
ness,  the  liquid  compulsion  of  the  music  made  even 
him  halt.  Only  for  a  second.  Then  he  bent  above  her 
and  spoke:  "There,  there,  you're  a  bit  overdone;  it's 

76 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

so  warm  in  this  little  place.     Let  me  and  Jean  help 
you  up  to  the  fresh  air." 

"Yes,"  said  the  child  at  the  same  time,  "that's  just 
what  I  think — fresh  air."  She  took  her  governess  by; 
the  hand,  but  Luliani's  hand  fell  limp.  "She  has 
fainted,  too!"  cried  Jean.  "I'll  run  up  for  smelling- 
salts,  and  you  fetch  her  as  fast  as  you  can."  Jean 
ran  off,  and  the  Chinese,  able  perhaps  to  see  between 
the  breeze-blown  curtains,  played  on. 

The  girl's  eyes  were  wide  open,  but  the  look  they 
gave  was  hardly  normal. 

"I'm  going  to  carry  you  up-stairs." 

"Oh!"  she  whispered.  "Take  me  away  safe  some- 
where, anywhere,  safe." 

"My  dear,  my  dear,"  he  murmured  in  a  rapture 
above  her.  Then  Jean  got  back  and  said : 

"Here's  the  vinaigrette  and  the  camphor  and  the 
ammonia,  and  I  didn't  tell  any  one,  because  mother's 
so  nervous,  and  Miss  Bertha's  so  pussy-cat — oh,  beg 
your  pardon,  I  forgot  she  was  your  fiancee;  of 
course  she's  a  lovely  girl,  Mr.  Stevens,  and  mother 
expects  her  to  ask  me  to  London  when  I'm  grown  up 
and  to  introduce  me  to  a  duke."  Jean  laughed,  while 
Mr.  Stevens  carried  Miss  de  Fontanges  up  the  stair- 
case, meeting  only  four  imperturbable  footmen  on  his 
way,  Jean  holding  the  vinaigrette  and  other  things. 

77 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER  \ 

•v 

"In  here,"  Jean  said;  "you  know  the  study,  Mr. 
Stevens?" 

"Of  course  I  do."  He  laid  his  burden  down  on  the 
reed  couch  and  pushed  a  pillow  under  her  head. 

"Think  I'd  better  phone  for  a  doctor  or  call  uncle 
up?"  asked  the  child. 

.      "I  don't  know."    He  stood  beside  her.     "Luliani!" 
'      She  opened  her  eyes  again. 

"Do  you  know  where  you  are  ?"  he  asked  of  her. 

"Yes.  I  know  all  that  you  and  Jean  have  done 
for  me.  I — I  have  these  semi-unconscious  turns  once 
in  a  great  while.  It  is  absolutely  nothing." 

"It  was  that  witch  fairy  harp-playing!"  cried  the 
child.  "It  always  makes  mother  kind  of  forget 
things,  too." 

Stevens  said :  "If  you  will  permit  me,  I'll  phone  for 
Warren  now;  he  hasn't  come  yet." 

"No,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Stevens."  Luliani  sat  up 
and  began,  with  reddening  cheeks,  to  pin  up  her  half- 
fallen  hair.  "I  am  quite  ashamed  of  myself,  and  I 
thank  you.  And  you  must  not  stop  here;  they  will 
be  expecting  you  down-stairs." 

Jean  was  too  palpably  present.  Reggie  bowed  and 
left;  then  Jean  said,  laughing:  "He  didn't  want  to 
leave  you  one  bit.  Oh,  I  know  things  when  I  see 

78 


THE  'FL'AME   DANCER  \ 

\ 

them.  Reggie  Stevens  doesn't  love  Bertha  Wilmer- 
ding  just  one  little  bit,  and  he  does  love — you!" 

"Jean!  if  you  want  to  hurt  me  you  will  think  such 
things  as  that.  They  are  not  nice ;  they  are  unworthy 
of  you.  Jean,  please " 

"Well,"  consented  the  child,  "I  know  that  the  truth 
is  not  to  be  spoken  at  all  times.  I'm  glad,  anyway, 
that  you  can't  hear  Professor  Struth-La's  music  up 
here." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  governess;  adding,  for  she 
wished  to  be  alone:  "Have  you  seen  your  mother  in 
her  ball  gown,  Jean?" 

"No,  I  haven't,  and  if  you're  sure  you  feel  quite  all 
right  I'll  just  run  over  and  size  her  up  as  the  Em- 
press Josephine." 

The  governess  smiled,  and  the  little  pupil  left  her 
to  herself. 

As  the  Empress  Josephine,  Mrs.  De  Forrest  Aus- 
tin was  an  overwhelming  success;  at  least,  so  she 
thought,  and  so  both  her  maid  and  her  "dearest,"  i.  e., 
Bertha  Wilmerding,  assured  her.  Jean  glanced  her 
maternal  parent  over  appraisingly. 

"Mother!"  exclaimed  the  child,  with  her  round  eyes 
beholding  for  the  first  time  the  flame  opals  gleaming 
on  Betty's  head,  neck,  and  arms.  "Are  those  Mr. 
Stevens'  Eastern  opals?  Is  that?" — she  came  close  to 

79 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

her  mother  and  laid  a  finger-tip  on  it — "is  that  the 
wonderful  talisman,  the  thing  that's  worth  half  a  mil- 
lion?" 

Betty  said:  "Yes,  child." 

Jean  drew  back.  "It  gleams  like  Professor  Struh- 
La's  eyes;  it  looks  like  his  music  sounds;  it" — she 
touched  the  flashing  and  angry-hearted  gem  again — = 
"feels  cruel.  Mother — take  it  off!  take  them  all  off — > 
all  those  flame-stones — your  own  things  are  enough." 
Betty  laughed. 

"Anyway,"  Jean  cried  out  a  bit  discomfited, 
"mother,  you  don't  match!" 

"What  does  that  child  mean?"  inquired  Bertha, 
poking  her  head  out  of  the  dressing-room,  where  she 
was  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  her  own  toilette 
as  Cleopatra. 

"I  mean  that  mother  and  the  costume  of  an  Em- 
press don't  agree ;  that's  what  I  mean ;  mother's  O.  K. 
in  a  Felix  gown  or  a  yachting  suit;  or  a  cutaway  and 
a  perky  hat;  but  she's  not  in  it  in  that!"  Miss  Jean 
contemptuously  indicated  her  mama's  imperial  robes. 

"How  about  me,  little  Miss  Impudence?"  sang  out 
Bertha. 

"You,  Miss  Bertha?  You're  Cleopatra,  aren't 
you?" 

Miss  Wilmerding  nodded.  She  had  had  vague 

80 


THE  TL'AME  D'ANCER 

ideas  about  subjugating  Mr.  Stevens  by  way  of  the 
costume  of  the  Egyptian  syren,  and  she  felt  that  any 
man,  Antony  or  another,  must  be  charmed  with  as 
pretty  a  woman  as  she  was,  in  such  an  arrangement 
of  folds  and  tissues. 

Jean  walked  around  and  around  her  mother's  chum ; 
then  she  sighed. 

"Well,"  she  finally  said,  "I've  been  doing  Shake- 
speare with  Miss  de  Fontanges  a  lot  lately,  and  all 
I've  got  to  say  is,  if  Cleopatra  looked  as  you  do,  Miss 
Bertha,  and  wore  her  clothes  in  the  way  you  do, 
Antony  and  those  other  chaps  hadn't  much  taste. 
You'd  better  label  yourself,  because  any  one  would 
mistake  you  for  a  chorus  girl  out  of  a  musical  com- 
edy at  the  Casino!  Now,  Miss  de  Fontanges,  she 

could  do  the  Cleopatra  stunt,  but  you "     Jean 

kissed  her  finger-tips  and  waltzed  across  to  the  door. 
She  knew  what  was  coming.  It  came. 

"Jean,  leave  the  room!"  said  her  mother;  while 
Bertha,  dismissing  her  maid,  as  Mrs.  Austin  had  al- 
ready done  by  hers,  joined  her  hostess  before  the  fire- 
place, where  the  logs  were  blazing  against  the  chilly; 
April  air. 

"Jean  is  so  impossible,"  sighed  Mrs.  Austin. 

"She's  clever,  all  the  same,"  remarked  Miss  Wil- 
merding. 

81 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Yes,"  hesitated  the  mother.  "I  hope  she  will  prove 
it.  Cleverness  is  such  a  help." 

"I  say,  Betty."  Bertha  Wilmerding  looked  hard  at 
her  friend.  "What  do  you  think  really  of  this  new 
governess  you've  got  for  your  daughter?" 

"Think  she's  quite  right.  Jean  likes  her.  Forrie 
likes  her.  She  makes  no  trouble,  obliterates  herself. 
What  about  her,  eh?"  Mrs.  Austin  was  quite  far 
from  being  stupid.  She  knew  pretty  well  that  it  had 
to  come,  and  might  as  well  come  now  in  this  hour 
before  her  ball  should  begin  as  at  any  other  time. 

"What  about  her!"  echoed  Bertha.  "Just  this: 
Reggie  admires  her  tremendously." 

"Does  he  now?"  with  ingenuous  surprise.  Miss 
Wilmerding  nodded  slowly.  "Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Bet,"  the  girl  said  angrily.  "Give 
me  some  advice.  What'll  I  do  ?  You  ought  to  know ; 
you  married  Forrie  Austin." 

"You  see,"  Betty  answered  slowly,  "Mr.  Austin 
made  me  believe  that  he  loved  me." 

"And  I  suppose  you  think  Reggie  doesn't  love  me?" 

"You  say  he  admires  my  governess  tremendously. 
My  dear  girl,  a  man  who  is  in  love  does  not  admire 
anything  on  earth  or  in  heaven  except  the  woman  he 
loves." 

"Thanks  awfully."    Bertha  bit  her  lip  and  her  black 

82 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

eyes  flashed  dangerously.  "I  suppose  we're  friends, 
you  and  I,  aren't  we?"  she  asked. 

"Rather."    Mrs.  Austin  spoke  reproachfully. 

"Will  you  dismiss  this  girl  if  I  ask  you  to?" 

"My  dear  Bertha!  Jean  would  break  her  heart. 
Jean  is  progressing  so  well.  Pshaw!  you  magnify. 
My  dear,  men  will  amuse  themselves  with  a  pretty 
governess,  who  happens  in  their  way,  and  have  no 
more  serious  thoughts  about  it  than  we  have  about 
one  man  more  or  less  kissing  our  hand  and  telling 
us  how  adorable  we  are.  Don't  be  silly." 

"I'm  not  silly!"  flung  back  the  younger  woman. 
She  rose,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel. 
"Betty,"  she  went  on,  "Reginald  Stevens  has  never 
even  given  me  an  engagement-ring!" 

"But  that  big  ruby  and  diamond  thing  on  your  fin- 
ger?" cried  the  matron,  indicating  what  she  mentioned. 

"A  bluff,"  returned  the  girl.  "Borrowed  it  from  a 
chap  I  know,  so  as  to  have  people  not  know  how 
Reggie  was  behaving." 

"Dreadful.  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  men, 
anyway!  Reggie,  with  millions  upon  millions.  You 
simply  stun  me!" 

"Fact.  I  made  him  pay  Louise's  bill,  though." 
She  smiled  triumphantly. 

"How?"  Mrs.  Austin  was  curious  and  evinced  it. 

83 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Simple  enough.  Asked  him  to  loan  me  the 
amount.  He  wouldn't  give  me  a  cheque,  but  sent  me 
up  the  bank-notes." 

"How  much?" 

"Four  hats,  a  hundred  and  sixty  dollars." 

"  'A  hundred  and  sixty,'  "  cried  Betty.  "Forty 
dollars  apiece!  Bertha  Wilmerding,  you're  not  pay- 
ing that  for  your  hats,  I  know." 

"I  doubled  it  up,"  the  girl  said,  with  a  toss  of  her 
head.  "You  don't  suppose  I'm  letting  Reggie  think 
I'm  the  sort  to  wear  twenty-dollar  hats,  do  you? 
I've  got  more  foresight  than  that.  He'd  be  expecting 
me  never  to  exceed  that  sum.  My  dear,  I  know 
something  about  men." 

"Not  Reggie,"  responded  Betty.  "He'd  never 
think  anything  too  expensive  for  his  wife." 

"Maybe  not,  if  she  happened  to  be — your  governess, 
for  example!"  Bertha  now  began  to  cry. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Mrs.  Austin  was  by  this 
really  concerned.  "My  dearest  girl,  you  don't  sup- 
pose for  one  second  now,  do  you,  that  Reggie  is  going 
to  throw  you  over  and  marry  Miss  de  Fontanges? 
Why!  he's  an  honorable  man.  He  has  asked  you  to 
marry  him — and  there  you  are!" 

"But,"  sobbed  the  fiancee,  "he  avoids  being  alone 
with  me,  and  he  never  asks  me  to  go  anywhere  ex- 

84 


cept  in  a  crowd  of  us;  and — that  de  Fontanges  girl 
is  always  in  his  eyes.     I  can  feel  her!" 

"Well !  Bertha  ?  you,  poetic !"  Mrs.  Austin  laughed 
aloud.  "That's  too  good.  Listen  here,  child.  Forrie 
did  love  me,  it's  true,  when  we  were  married ;  at  least, 
he  made  a  good  show  if  it  was  all  make-believe;  but 
lots  of  men  don't.  You're  not  alone  in  your  boat, 
Bertha.  You  just  hurry  the  wedding  and  have  the 
bishop  turn  you  into  Mrs.  Reginald  Stevens,  and  don't 
bother  about  the  rest.  You're  pretty,  and  you  can 
amuse  yourself  just  as  well  with  six  millions  per  an- 
num as  on  nothing." 

Miss  Wilmerding  dried  her  eyes. 

"Have  some  spirit,"  suggested  the  matron,  "Heav- 
ens above!  Give  him  something  to  be  jealous  about. 
Show  him  you're  not  to  be  treated  this  way.  I  tell 
you,  my  dear  girl,  when  one  of  us  women  marries 
a  man  that  isn't  just  mad  about  us,  we  have  to  do 
a  lot  of  er — well — little  things  that  help  along,  don't 
you  know!  I'll  send  Jean  and  Miss  de  Fontanges  to 
the  Long  Island  place  for  a  month  or  so,  for  change 
of  air,  eh?" 

"Oh,  will  you?  Will  you,  Betty?  It's  horrible 
to  have  to  say  it,  but  I  loathe  her;  she's  so  mystical, 
and  Reggie  just  eats  her  up  whenever  she's  about, 
looking  at  her." 

85 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   GHOST   AT   THE   BALL 

44X  TONSENSE,  my "    A  footman  appeared 

\|  with  a  telegram  for  Mrs.  Austin,  which  she 
took  and  read.  Her  eyebrows  contracted; 
she  glanced  at  the  clock.  It  was  at  eight-thirty  only. 
She  dismissed  the  man  with  a  glance,  bidding  him 
close  the  two  doors  of  the  room  before  he  went,  and 
to  wait  until  called.  Then  Mrs.  De  Forrest  Austin's 
color  rose  under  the  suspicion  of  rouge  which  she 
sometimes  wore. 

"What  is  it?"  Bertha  asked,  because  she  knew  her 
friend  pretty  well  and  she  felt  that  something  was 
amiss. 

Mrs.  Austin  scanned  her  companion's  face  and 
then  handed  her  the  despatch. 

Bertha  read  it  to  herself  first,  then  began  aloud; 
but  Betty  hushed  her  at  once  with  a  warning  hand, 
and  the  girl  was  silenced,  but  sat  in  wonder  as  her 
friend  took  back  the  scrap  of  yellow  paper. 

"Why  couldn't  he  have  waited  just  a  few  hours?" 
murmured  Mrs.  Austin;  and  then  Bertha  laughed  in 
pure  nervousness. 

86 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"How  can  you  laugh?  How  can  you  be  so  heart- 
less?" 

"I'm  not,"  asseverated  Bertha,  "but  if  you  could 
see  your  face,  it  is  so  wobegone,  and  I  know  so  well 
you  didn't  care  a  pin  about  your  father-in-law,  Betty." 

"Heavens!  that  isn't  it,  you  goose.  It's  that  I'll 
have  to  shut  up  the  house  at  once  and  have  no  ball, 
and  waste  this  gown  on  the  wardrobe,  that's  what  it 
is!"  And  now  Mrs.  Austin's  tears  began  to  flow. 
"And  not  wear  Reggie's  marvelous  flame  opals  or  the 
coronet  or  necklace  or  anything!" 

"I  see!"  Miss  Wilmerding,  with  her  visions  of 
Cleopatra's  execution  to  be  done  on  her  recalcitrant 
fiance,  looked  solemn,  too.  She  took  the  telegram 
from  Betty's  lap.  "It  says  it — he,  I  mean — will  ar- 
rive here  at  about  midnight." 

"That's  four  hours  off."  Mrs.  Austin  rose.  "Ber- 
tha, you'll  never  tell?  Not  even  by  and  by  in  years 
to  come,  when  we  quarrel,  as  we  will?  Women  al- 
ways do  sooner  or  later.  Sure?" 

"I'll  never  tell,  Betty.  But  what  is  it  I'm  not  to 
tell,  eh?" 

"Well,  I'm  not  going  to  give  up  this  function  and 
wearing  the  Eastern  jewels,  which  have  already  given 
two  continents  something  to  talk  about,  because  For- 
rie's  father  has  had  the  bad  taste  to  die  in  western 

87 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

New  York.  They  say  they  wired  this  morning.  How 
lucky  we  didn't  get  it!  How  fortunate  they  wired  to 
me.  I  was  born  under  a  good  star,  after  all!" 

"But,"  said  the  girl,  "how  and  what  are  you  going 
to  do,  my  dear?" 

"Jaffray!"  ejaculated  the  hostess,  as  she  touched 
the  bell-button. 

"The  detective  ?"  in  astonishment. 

Betty  nodded  as  the  footman  responded  to  her  call. 
She  said  to  him:  "Jaffray  is  here,  Jamieson,  is  he 
not?" 

"Yes,  madam,  ever  since  the  messengers  from  the 
bank  vaults  arrived  with  the  jewels,  Mrs.  Austin." 

"Send  Jaffray  to  me  at  once,  please." 

"Yes,  madam."    Jamieson  went  away. 

"Betty!"  exclaimed  Bertha  Wilmerding  under  her 
breath.  "Whatever  are  you  going  to  do.  What  would 
Forrie  say?" 

"'Forrie!'"  repeated  Forrie's  wife  energetically. 
"My  dear  child,  when  a  woman  is  the  keeper  of  a 
man's  pocketbook,  when  she  is  the  dollars-and-cents 
end  of  the  affair,  the  man  has  nothing  to  say — that 
matters!"  added  Mrs.  Austin,  with  a  smile.  "Be- 
sides, he  need  never  know." 

Jaffray,  a  superb  specimen  of  a  man,  in  faultless 
evening  dress,  was  now  ushered  into  his  employer's 

88 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

presence  by  Jamieson.  With  the  wonderful  eyes  that 
had  placed  him  where  he  was  on  the  force,  in  one 
flashing  glance  he  had  inventoried,  the  mass  of  mag- 
nificent gems,  including,  of  course,  Stevens'  loan, 
which  adorned  Mrs.  Austin.  From  crown  to  heel  she 
blazed  and  sparkled.  They  were  all  there,  consequent- 
ly the  man  knew  at  once  that  nothing  serious  had  as 
yet  occurred,  whatever  suspicions  might  exist  in  his 
patroness's  mind. 

He  closed  the  door  after  the  footman,  and  then  he 
said: 

"What  is  the  trouble,  Mrs.  Austin?" 

"Nothing  exactly  in  your  line,  Jaffray;  but  I  think 
you're  the  person  to  help  me,  if  you  will." 

Jaffray,  as  has  been  said,  was  a  superb-looking 
man.  Such  are  seldom,  if  ever,  insensible  to  the  ap- 
peals of  even  passable-looking  women.  The  detective 
bowed  low. 

"Whatever  I  can  do  to  serve  you,  madam,  will  be 
done  with  pleasure  and  to  the  very  best  of  my  ability." 

"From  eleven-thirty  to  about  twelve,  I  suppose,  say 
an  hour  at  the  outside,  I  want  you  to  leave  me  to  take 
care  of  all  these" — she  indicated  the  treasures — "and 
attend  to  something  very  different." 

"Do  you  think,  Mrs.  Austin,"  replied  the  man  from 
headquarters,  "that  you  are  quite  wise  in  a  move  like 

89 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

that?"  He  surveyed  the  ropes  of  flame  opals,  the 
rubies,  diamonds,  and  sapphires  which,  together  with 
the  unparalleled  talisman,  were  twisted  around  Betty's 
white  throat  and  fell  in  glistening  showers  far  below 
her  trim  little  waist,  sparkled  on  her  head,  ears,  and 
arms. 

"But  they're  all  on  me,  Jaffray,"  she  answered, 
"and  certainly  while  I  retain  my  senses  no  one  can 
take  them  off  without  my  knowing  it  and  stopping 
the  thief!"  Mrs.  Austin  and  Miss  Wilmerding  both 
laughed  a  bit  in  derision  of  the  detective's  serious 
aspect. 

"Very  true;  but  if  I'm  to  be  off  duty  I  cannot  an- 
swer, Mrs.  Austin,  for  who  might  enter  the  house 
and  what  they  might  not  plan.  All  New  York — 
every  crook  in  the  Tenderloin — knows  that  to-night 
Mr.  Stevens'  and  Mrs.  Austin's  jewels  are  in  commis- 
sion. I  don't  like  to  trust  them  out  of  my  sight. 
Could  not  some  other  man  be  assigned  to  the  other 
job?" 

Betty  shook  her  head. 

Bertha  said:  "Could  not  some  other  man,  Betty, 
take  Mr.  Jaffray's  place?" 

Jaffray  shook  his  head,  and,  making  bold  to  reply 
for  Mrs.  Austin,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  frankly  on 
those  of  Miss  Wilmerding. 

90 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"No,  there  isn't  a  man  disengaged  this  evening  who 
is  fit  or  able  to  take  charge  of  these."  And  he  nodded 
toward  the  princely  jewels. 

"I'll  risk  it,  Jaffray,"  Mrs.  Austin  said.  "I  insist 
there  is  no  one  else  I  can  trust  with  this  other — er — •. 
matter." 

Betty  actually  did  halt  a  trifle  here,  while  Bertha 
discreetly  walked  over  to  a  window  and  looked  out. 

"Very  well,  madam,"  was  the  reply.  "Just  as  you 
say.  May  I  ask  what  the  job  is?" 

"It's  a  death,"  said  Mrs.  Austin  bluntly. 

The  man  to  whom  she  spoke  made  no  motion,  even 
of  further  inquiry,  than  his  attitude  had  expressed 
before  she  had  replied  to  his  last  question.  The 
woman  pulled  herself  together,  possibly  assisted  by  the 
sudden  outpouring  of  the  Hungarian  orchestra  below 
and  by  a  tap  at  her  door.  First  she  crossed  to  the 
door,  motioning  the  detective  into  her  dressing-room 
as  she  went.  She  opened  the  door.  Her  husband 
stood  there. 

"Hello,  Bet,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  jolly  way.  "But 
we  are  fine  to-night!  Stevens'  opals — 'pon  my  honor, 
they're  a  blaze!"  Making  to  enter,  she  barred  him 
out.  "Not  ready  yet?  People  coming  now.  Better 
hurry  down.  Why  can't  I  come  in?" 

"Bertha's  here,"  was  the  low-toned  response. 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"Oh,  I  see !  and  she's  not  ready,  eh — that  it  ?  Reg- 
gie's here,"  he  laughed.  "Oh,  I  say,  Jaffray's  no- 
where about,  and  perhaps  you'd  best  not  come  down 
until  I  look  him  up." 

"Pshaw !  nonsense.  Jaffray  is  here !"  retorted  Mrs. 
Austin,  with  a  singular  adherence  to  exact  truth. 
"Don't  worry  about  him.  Don't  be  silly.  Run  along." 

"Very  well,  very  well.    How  do  I  look,  eh?" 

"Like  a  dear,  of  course.  Charles  the  Second's 
things  are  just  your  style,  wig  and  all." 

He  went,  and  she  closed  the  door. 

Jaffray  came  out  of  her  dressing-room. 

She  went  up  to  him,  while  Bertha  Wilmerding  went 
into  her  own  room,  leaving  the  door  open,  however, 
between. 

"It's  this,  Jaffray.  Mr.  Austin's  father  has  died, 
up  the  State.  The  first  telegrams  announcing  it  not 
having  reached,  Mr.  Austin  does  not  know  it.  This 
wire,"  she  handed  the  lately  received  telegram  to  the 
detective,  "has  just  come.  It  explains  the  situation. 
You  understand.  I  cannot  give  up  this  ball." 

The  detective  read  the  despatch.  For  a  second  he 
hesitated  as  to  whether  he  should  leave  her  to  outline 
the  action  she  desired,  or  if  he  should  do  it  hjmself. 
He  chose  the  latter.  She  was  very  pretty  and  exceed- 
ingly rich.  He  liked  character-study  at  short  range — 

92 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Betty  interested  him.  He  had  not  always  been  a  de- 
tective; he  was  college  bred,  and  born  as  well  as  the 
wen  an  whose  unique  proposition  now  confronted 
him. 

"Due  at  midnight?"  Jaffray  remarked,  scanning  the 
scrap  of  paper. 

"Yes." 

Then  he  looked  at  his  watch.  "It's  almost  nine 
now."  Mrs.  Austin  nodded.  "It  will  arrive  about  the 
time  that  the  seated  supper  will  be  served?"  Betty 
again  inclined  her  head.  "The  dining-room  windows 
give  on  the  stable  courtyard?" 

"Yes,  they  do,  but "  With  mental  joy  she 

added :  "Every  one  of  those  seven  windows  is  stained 
glass,  you  remember,  Jaffray?  The  shades  are  heav- 
ily embroidered  lace,  the  curtains  are  unlooped  and  of 
lined  brocade." 

The  detective  bowed,  handed  back  the  telegram, 
took  out  his  watch  once  more. 

"Mrs.  Austin,  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  my  room, 
and  get  a  different  make-up.  That  will  take  fifteen 
minutes,  making  it,  say,  from  nine-five  until  nine- 
twenty-five  that  the  gems  will  be  un watched." 

Betty  tossed  her  head.    "No  danger  in  the  least." 

"From  nine-twenty-five,"  resumed  Jaffray,  "until 
eleven-forty-five  I  can  watch  you.  At  that  hour  I 

93 


THE  FL'AME  'DANCER 

shall  disappear  again,  get  into  my  other  togs,  mount 
guard  at  the  curb,  stop  the  vehicle  that  fetches  Mr. 
Austin's  father  here,  guide  it  into  the  stable  court- 
yard, have  it  placed  safely,  where  it  will  await  your 
orders  until  morning,  I  presume?" 

Betty  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Splendid!"  she  exclaimed.  Then,  as  an  after- 
thought: "But  the  grooms  and  coachmen?" 

"I  will  take  care  of  them." 

"And,  dear  me!  Jaffray,  how  are  you  to  get  it — » 
him — decently  into  the  house  to-morrow?  I  never 
thought  of  that!" 

"Leave  it  all  to  me,"  the  man  replied,  with  just  a 
suspicion  of  amusement  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
Mrs.  Austin  didn't  see  that,  however.  "It  shall  be 
done — decently,"  he  added. 

Jaffray  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

Bertha  reentered. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

"You  heard  it  all,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes.    It's  sort  of  weird,  though." 

"Nonsense.  What  a  stroke  that  I  remembered  Jaf- 
fray! After  all,  it'll  be  just  the  same  as  if  we  hadn't 
had  the  wire  until  to-morrow.  Jaff ray's  a  dear:  he 
and  Leo  were  college  chums,  you  know." 

"Yes?"  remarked  Miss  Wilmerding.  "I  wouldn't 

94 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Have  had  this  ball  given  up  for  all  the  world !  People 
are  arriving,  Bet.  We'd  better  get  down.  Jaffray's 
handsome,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes.  No  such  hurry;  the  women'll  spend  fifteen 
minutes  at  least  powdering,  and  the  men  taking  final 
whiffs  at  cigars!"  She  regarded  herself  in  the  long 
mirror.  "Jaffray  actually  made  me  a  bit  nervous 
about  the  jewels  when  he  said  if  he  has  to  be  off  duty 
he  couldn't  answer  for  them!" 

"Bah !"  cried  the  girl.  "I  fancy  you're  not  going  to 
be  robbed  with  your  eyes  open,  and  six  hundred  peo- 
ple surrounding  you.  I'll  risk  it  when  those" — she 
indicated  the  flame  opals — "become  mine!" 

"You  don't  mind  my  wearing  them  this  once,  do 
you?" 

"No,"  Bertha  said. 

"Have  you  seen  Reggie  yet  to-night?"  asked  Mrs. 
Austin. 

"No."  The  monosyllable  came  curtly.  "I  phoned 
him  to  fetch  me  some  flowers.  He  phoned  back  he'd 
send  them." 

"Did  he?" 

"Yes;  there  they  are."  She  flung  back  her  eyes  to 
a  big  bunch  of  American  beauties  in  the  adjoining 
room.  "I  told  him  I'd  be  down  at  nine;  it's  quarter 
past." 

95 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"So  it  is.  Well,  never  mind.  He's  on  deck ;  Forrie 
said  so.  Be  thankful  he  didn't  beg  off." 

"I  suppose  so.    Shall  we  go  down  now?" 

"Yes;  come  along." 

She  rang  for  the  maids  to  hold  up  their  trains,  and 
down  they  went. 

A  lot  of  women  had  arrived,  and  quite  a  bunch  of 
men.  Reginald  Stevens  stood  among  these,  a  very 
goodly  figure  to  look  upon,  gallant  from  top  to  toe, 
and  wearing  his  satins  and  laces  with  as  fine  a  grace 
as  ever  a  king  could  muster.  Bertha  made  no  demur. 
She  went  up  to  him.  He  darted  to  her,  for  instinc- 
tively he  would  have  spared  any  woman  the  humilia- 
tion of  seeking  a  man. 

"The  roses  were  lovely,"  she  said,  leading  him  to- 
ward the  conservatory. 

"Glad  they  suited,"  he  answered. 

She  glanced  down  at  the  suggestive  splendors  of 
her  attire,  then  up  into  his  face. 

He  understood  the  look  and  made  his  reply  to  it. 

"Magnificent  costume!    Who  got  it  up?" 

"I  thought  it  out  myself.     Do  you  like  it?" 

"Gorgeous!    Cleopatra,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes.    I  wish  now  you  had  chosen  Antony." 

"Why?"  They  had  reached  the  conservatory,  where 
the  languorous  scents  were  exquisitely  sweet  and 

96 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

soothing.    Her  hand  on  his  arm  now  traveled  to  his 
hand,  and  her  eyes  were  raised  to  his. 

"'Why?'"  she  echoed.  "I  don't  quite  know:  be- 
cause they  belonged  to  each  other,  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra." She  sank  into  a  seat;  he  stood  up,  his  hand 
upon  the  hilt  of  his  rapier,  his  plumed  hat  under  his 
arm. 

"But  we  don't  belong  to  each  other,"  he  said  in  a 
commonplace  way. 

"No,"  she  responded;  "not  yet." 

"We  never  will.  I  say,  Bertha,  we've  made  a  big 
mistake,  little  woman.  Suppose  we  rectify  it.  I'll  cut 
off  to  Europe,  Asia,  any  old  place,  and  you  tell  the 
world  you've  broken  it  off,  and  broken  my  heart,  too, 
eh?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  you  care  nothing  for  me." 

"I  do!    I  do!" 

"Well,  I  don't  think  so.    And  I "    He  crossed 

the  little  place  and  came  back  again.    She  was  stand- 
ing up  then,  too. 

"You  what?"    Her  black  eyes  blazed. 

"I  find  I'm  not  the  marrying  sort  of  a  chap  at  all. 
I'd  never  make  you  happy.  Let's  call  it  off,  my  dear 
girl,  and  continue  to  be  the  very  best  chums  in  the 
world.  Won't  we?" 

97 


THE   FLAME   D'ANCER 

"Certainly  not,"  was  the  girl's  answer. 

"Come  now,  I  know  how  you  feel  about  it;  that 
you've  given  your  word  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
honor  bound  and  so  forth,  but  I'm  sure  you'll  be 
sensible.  Such  a  lot  of  chaps  on  your  string,  and  I, 
I  don't  really  want  to  marry  at  all." 

"Yes,  you  do."  Her  voice  was  low,  but  there  was 
an  ominous  note  in  it. 

He  regarded  her  curiously.  His  attitude  of  mind 
was,  barring  some  other  things,  almost  identical  with 
that  of  the  detective  during  his  late  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Austin — he  was  lost  in  amazement  at  this  par- 
ticular type  of  woman. 

"You  do  want  to  marry  that  governess  girl,  Luliani 
de  Fontanges.  Do  you  think  I'm  an  idiot?.  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  I  saw  it  all,  all,  the  first  night  you  ever  saw 
her,  when  I  came  back  for  Jean  and  found  the  child 
sitting  between  you  two  on  the  couch."  She  looked 
bluntly  at  him.  "Well?"  she  pursued.  "Aren't  you 
going  to  speak?" 

He  bowed.     "You  have  the  floor." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  her  temper  commanded  her,  "and 
I'm  going  to  keep  it,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  you  to 
your  word,  too." 

He  bent  a  little  nearer  to  her,  for  her  voice  was 
rising  in  that  unaccountable  way  that  so  many  human 

98 


THE   FLAM'E   DANCER 

voices  will  rise  to  the  exact  height  of  their  emotions. 
His  voice  was  very  low  as  he  spoke: 

"Miss  Wilmerding,  you  are  not  quite  yourself.  I 
made  my  offer,  such  as  it  was,  to  you  under  a  mis- 
apprehension, because  I  was  told  that  I  had  com- 
promised you,  and  that  I  must  do  what  was  expected 

of  me.    I  have  since  learned You  will  not  force 

me  to  tell  you  what  I  have  since  learned — I  am  sure? 
You  will  permit  me  to  leave  the  country  with  a  broken 
heart,  as  I  volunteered  a  moment  ago,  and  when  I 
return  I  shall  hope  to  find  you  married  to  some  nice 
chap  whom  you  love  and  who  loves  you." 

"Quite  like  a  goody-goody  story-book,  that,"  she 
exclaimed,  "only  with  this  difference — I'm  going  to 
marry  you,  and  no  one  else!" 

"I  think  not,"  he  said,  with  blood  surging  to  his 
face  for  both  her  and  himself. 

"Do  you  refuse  to  carry  out  our  engagement?" 

"I  refuse." 

"Why?" 

"Must  I  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  you  must." 

"Because,  in  the  first  place,  there  is  no  love  between 
us " 

"Why  didn't  you  think  of  that  before  you  pro- 
posed?" she  interrupted  sagaciously. 

99 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

He  looked  fully  into  her  face. 

"Because  then  I  knew  nothing  about  the  possibili- 
ties of  such  a  thing." 

"And  now  you  do?"  she  blurted  out. 

"Now  I  do." 

"I  thought  it  was  the  governess.  Well,  what's  the 
rest  of  it?" 

"You  force  me?"  He  gave  her  unlimited  chance 
to  behave  decently. 

"Go  on,"  she  said  fiercely. 

"You  were  marrying  me  for  money." 

"What  of  it?" 

He  turned  from  her. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  giving  up  four  establishments, 
a  yacht,  and  six  millions  per  annum,  just  because 
you've  happened  to  encounter  a  little  French  teacher? 
Oh,  no!" 

He  stood  still.  She  was  impossible,  but  still  had 
to  be  dealt  with.  He  had  his  own  methods.  He  was 
silent. 

"Speak,"  she  commanded  vehemently. 

"Nothing  to  say." 

"Do  you  refuse  to  marry  me?" 

"I  do  refuse  to  marry  you.  Shall  I  take  you  back 
into  the  ballroom?" 

"Yes,  you  shall." 

100 


They  went  back  together.  He  took  her  to  Betty, 
at  her  request,  and  then  left  her  a»d  went  down-stairs 
to  smoke. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  Bertha  Wilmer- 
ding  said  sweetly  to  her  hostess : 

"Where's  your  pretty  little  governess  to-night, 
dear — not  in  evidence?" 

"No!"  replied  Mrs.  Austin,  "hardly.  I  suppose 
she's  up  in  the  study.  Forrie  just  told  me  that  he 
went  in  to  speak  to  Jean  and  found  the  child  in  bed 
and  asleep.  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"No  reason  in  the  world." 

"Have  you  seen  Reggie  ?"  sharply. 

"Certainly.  We've  been  in  the  conservatory.  What 
a  crush  you've  got  to-night.  One  of  my  shoes  hurts 
me.  I  must  go  up  and  change  it.  Just  look  at  that 
Mrs.  Mallory,  will  you?" 

Bertha  went  up-stairs  to  the  study.  She  tapped  at 
the  door,  but  did  not  wait  for  an  answer;  she  opened 
and  walked  into  the  semi-darkness,  where  in  a  moment 
she  caught  sight  of  Luliani  de  Fontanges  sitting  for- 
lornly in  a  stiff  chair  in  the  circle  of  light  from  a 
single  bulb.  Miss  de  Fontanges  rose. 

"There  is  no  one  here  but  me,  Miss  Wilmerding." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  replied  the  visitor,  regarding 
the  other  girl  with  no  nonplussed  air,  but  rather  one 

101 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

of  appraisal.  "I  don't  quite  see  what  it  is  in  you, 
Miss  de  Fontanges,  that  is  so  attractive  to  the  men." 
Bertha's  gaze  was  flaming  with  all  the  untamed  pas- 
sions to  the  fore  which  yield  their  lawless  harvest  in 
the  characters  of  those  whose  parents  have  brought 
them  up  on  the  easy  principle  of  giving  them  what 
they  screamed  for  from  birth  onward.  Heredity 
counts  for  a  cypher  beside  the  beastly  results  of  this 
not  uncommon  method  of  upbringing,  and  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  more  crimes  are  committed  as  the  outcome 
of  the  motherhood  that  does  not  know  how  to  say 
no  than  to  any  other  cause — the  daughter  of  the 
mother  who  can't  say  no  generally  doesn't  know  how 
to  say  no,  either.  Bertha  didn't  know  how  to  say  no 
to  herself,  or  to  her  inclinations  and  precipitancies. 

Luliani  looked  at  her  visitor  clearly  from  head  to 
foot.  Then  she  said : 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Miss  Wilmerding.  I  don't 
care  to  have  you  explain  yourself.  I  prefer  that  you 
should  leave  me."  She  walked  toward  the  door  and 
put  out  her  hand  to  open  it. 

Bertha  jumped  between  Luliani  and  the  door. 

"But  I  shall  explain  myself,"  she  cried,  "and  you've 
got  to  listen  to  me.  You're  occult,  that's  what  you 
are — uncanny.  Forrie  Austin's  in  love  with  you,"  she 
pursued.  "Every  one  knows  it." 

102 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"Silence!"  said  the  other  girl.  "You  have  got  to 
go,  if  I  have  to  force  you." 

"You  dare  to  touch  me!"  cried  Miss  Wilmerding. 
"I  repeat,  every  one  can  see  that  Forrie  Austin's  gone 
on  you;  even  his  wife  must  know  it,  but  she  doesn't 
care." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room,  where  a  door  gave  upon  the  narrow  enclosed 
staircase  in  use  for  the  servants. 

"No,  you  don't!"  Bertha  exclaimed,  running  and 
preventing  her  exit.  "I  didn't  leave  the  dancing  to 
come  up  here  and  talk  to  you  about  your  employer; 
but  I  did  come  to  speak  to  you  about  Mr.  Stevens." 
She  paused  as  if  this  were  a  thunderbolt  likely  to 
cause  something  unusual. 

Miss  de  Fontanges  was  silent. 

"I  am  engaged  to  Mr.  Stevens!"  Bertha  continued. 

"I  am  aware  of  it." 

"I  know  you  are.  And  if  you've  got  a  grain  of 
common  sense  you'll  give  him  up." 

Luliani  lifted  her  eyebrows  and  smiled  contemptu- 
ously. 

"Don't  you  dare  to  smile  that  way  at  me.  Don't 
you  suppose  I  know  what  sort  of  an  affair  a  man  like 
Reginald  Stevens  carries  on  with  a  woman  in  your 
position?"  The  sneer  was  on  her  lips,  but  it  evoked 

103 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

no  response.  Bertha  went  on :  "No  one  else  may  have 
guessed  it.  I  have.  I  don't  blame  him;  men  are  built 
that  way.  I  know  they  must  be  amused,  but  I  tell 
you  plainly  the  time  has  come  now  for  you  to  get 
away;  if  you  don't,  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Austin  and  have  you 
put  out.  Will  you  go  to-night — yes  or  no?" 

The  two  women  were  in  the  shadow  at  the  far  end 
of  the  study  near  the  door;  the  only  light  in  the  room 
was  that  from  the  single  green  bulb  at  the  near  end 
over  a  reading  chair. 

Luliani  said :  "No,"  and  her  face  was  terrified,  yet 
proud.  As  she  spoke  the  door  at  the  near  end  opened. 
Reginald  Stevens  and  Doctor  Warren  came  in  to- 
gether at  that  same  second.  What  met  their  gaze  was 
Bertha  Wilmerding  raising  her  right  hand  and  stri- 
king Luliani  de  Fontanges  in  the  face.  She  had  al- 
ways been  used  as  a  child  to  striking  at  people  and 
things  that  displeased  her,  to  the  admiration  of  her 
mother. 

Both  men  sprang  forward.  Warren  seized  Bertha 
by  both  arms;  Stevens  caught  Miss  de  Fontanges  as 
she  staggered  under  the  blow,  the  mark  of  which  was 
plain  upon  her  cheek  and  temple. 

Luliani  was  the  first  to  speak.  She  said  to  Doctor 
Warren :  "I  think  Miss  Wilmerding  has,  temporarily, 
doubtless,  lost  her  mind." 

104 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"I  should  think  so,"  murmured  Stevens,  as  Luliani 
disengaged  herself  from  his  support. 

The  physician  was  silent,  but  he  held  Bertha  in  a 
vise. 

She  screamed  at  the  very  moment  that  Reggie 
spoke.  Warren  put  his  hand  over  her  mouth. 

"You  stop!"  she  cried  through  his  fingers.  "I'm 
not  out  of  my  senses  in  the  least.  I  came  up  here  to 
tell  this  girl  a  few  truths.  I've  told  them.  Now  I'm 
going." 

Warren  took  his  hand  from  her  mouth  and  said 
quietly : 

"You'd  better  come  to  my  sister's  room  and  let  me 
give  you  something  to  compose  your  nerves  first. 
You  are  not  behaving  wisely,  Miss  Bertha.  You  will 
regret  this;  be  advised." 

"Look  at  her!"  she  cried,  pointing  at  Luliani. 
"Standing  there  shamelessly  with  the  man  who  is  en- 
gaged to  me,  me!  beside  her." 

Reginald  Stevens  said,  partly  addressing  himself 
to  Miss  de  Fontanges:  "I  am  not  engaged  to  Miss 
Wilmerding,  Miss  de  Fontanges.  We  have  mutually 
agreed  to  cancel  the  engagement  that  did  exist  be- 
tween us  for  a  few  weeks." 

"No,  we  haven't!"  Bertha  exclaimed,  waving  aside 

105 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

Doctor  Warren's  hand.  "It  takes  two  to  make  a  bar- 
gain, Reggie,  and  I  don't  give  you  up  to  a  passing 
folly  like  this !  I  will  stick  to  you  and  wait  until  you 
get  tired  of  your  toy.  I  care  enough  to  make  allow- 
ances for  all  your  little  foibles."  With  which,  in  her 
Cleopatra  attire,  Miss  Wilmerding  turned  and  swept 
from  the  study,  accompanied  by  the  physician. 

At  the  threshold  they  encountered  Professor  Struh- 
La,  who  was  in  the  magnificent  costume  of  a  first-class 
mandarin.  He  was  using  his  fan  smilingly,  and  also 
his  eyes,  with  which  he  beheld  through  the  open  door 
both  Luliani  and  Stevens  standing  together  within. 

Perhaps  in  the  brief  moment  during  which  that 
door  stood  open,  allowing  these  other  two  to  pass  out, 
Miss  de  Fontanges  felt  his  gaze  upon  her,  for  she 
trembled  now  as  she  had  not  done  before. 

The  Chinese  exchanged  gracious  salutations  with 
the  doctor  and  Miss  Wilmerding;  the  former  closed 
the  study  door  and  all  three  went  their  ways. 

Reggie  turned  to  Luliani. 

"My  dear,  my  dear!"  he  whispered. 

"No,"  she  whispered.  "You  must  not,  you  must 
not!" 

"Why  not?" 

She  drew  away,  rose,  and  sighed.  What  so  bitter 

106 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

as  for  a  woman  to  feel  that  she  has  even  sinlessly  had 
an  inexplicable  past? 

"Just  go  away  and  forget  me,  that  is  all,"  she  an- 
swered. 

He  sprang  to  her. 

"No !"  he  cried.  "That  is  not  all.  I  love  you,  love 
you,  want  you  for  my  wife.  Is  it  not  possible  that 
you  may  love  me  just  a  little?  I  will  be  satisfied  to 
wait  for  much;  it  would  come,  I  know.  Luliani,  my 
girl,  look  at  me!" 

She  glanced  into  his  beseeching  eyes,  her  own  de- 
mure, yet  yearning  to  surrender. 

"Now,"  he  went  on,  "you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
we  belong  to  each  other.  I  am  yours,  have  been  since 
the  first  night  I  met  you.  Speak  the  truth,  my  sweet- 
heart. You  care  a  bit  about  me,  eh?" 

"Yes,"  she  faltered,  and  then  shuddered  in  his  em- 
brace, because  she  felt  through  the  walls  and  doors 
and  curtains  the  arrow  of  the  Chinese  man's  will 
sticking  into  her  soul. 

"You're  unnerved,  and  no  wonder,"  he  murmured 
over  her.  "In  a  few  days  you  shall  tell  me  all  Miss 
Wilmerding  said  to  you."  His  lips  rested  on  the 
bruise  on  the  girl's  face.  "Brute!"  he  cried  out  in 
anguish  at  the  shameful  hurt  to  her  whom  he  loved. 

Luliani  laid  her  finger  on  his  lips. 

107 


"Don't  call  any  woman  that!"  she  spoke  softly. 

"Why  not?"  he  demanded  roughly.  "There  are 
such  women;  they  are  beasts  of  prey;  they  cause  men 
of  a  normal  type  to  shudder.  To  think  that  such  a 
fiend  struck  you!"  He  folded  her  to  him;  then  laid 
her  gently  out  of  his  arms,  drew  back,  and  stood  look- 
ing at  her. 

"You  are  too  exquisite  for  me  to  touch,  yet.  I 
must  get  a  bit  used  to  my  happiness.  I  must  pull 
myself  together  and  plan  things  at  once  to  have  you 
leave  here." 

She  smiled  forlornly,  for  the  dragon  of  China  and 
his  claws  dangled  before  her  and  wrestled  with  her 
spirit. 

"You  must  go  away  now,"  she  said,  pushing  him 
tenderly  toward  the  door.  "They  will  be  missing  you. 
I  want  to  go  to  sleep.  Good  night." 

He  did  not  speak,  but  kissed  a  fold  of  her  dress 
and  left  her.  He  heard  her  lock  the  door  after  him, 
and  remembered  that  the  governess'  own  rooms 
opened  from  the  study. 

Luliani  stood  close  to  the  door  she  had  just  locked. 
Her  hands  were  crossed  upon  her  breast;  her  mind 
was  a  delirium  of  memories,  hopes,  but  above  every- 
thing else  stalked  fear — consuming  her,  eating  up 
her  powers,  and  enslaving  her  capacities.  This  fear 

108 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

was  her  master.  Insensibly  her  hand  stretched  out 
to  unlock  the  door  she  had  but  just  barred  against 
its  intrusion.  Then  she  started  back  with  a  little 
laugh  of  sumptuous  comfort  at  the  memory  of  Regi- 
nald Stevens'  love.  She  turned  away  from  this  door 
and  faced  the  one  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  study. 
She  ran  to  lock  it  also,  but  as  she  reached  it  it  opened. 
Struh-La  entered,  closing  it  behind  him,  and  turning 
this  key,  too,  in  its  lock. 


109 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  POWER  AGAINST  WHICH  TO  STRUGGLE  IS  USELESS 

HER  hands  fell,  her  eyelids  quivered;  she  tried 
to  see  Reggie's  face  before  her,  but  the 
occult  eyes  were  there  instead. 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Struh-La. 

"How  do  you  do?"  she  repeated  perfunctorily. 

"Well.  To-night  is  the  night  when  you  are  to  aid 
me." 

"No!"  she  uttered  the  word  with  a  force  and  pre- 
cision new  to  him  in  his  dealings  with  her. 

"Yes,"  he  responded  softly. 

She  sprang  to  the  main  door  and  her  hands  were 
on  the  knob  and  key;  then  they  fell  listlessly  and  her 
head  turned  back  to  the  Chinese  man. 

Their  eyes  met.  She  made  a  brave  fight — every 
muscle  in  her  was  at  cracking  tension,  every  fibre 
thrilled,  every  power  of  soul  and  mind  stood  up  for 
rebellion,  if  rebellion  even  should  cost  her  her  life; 
but  it  was  of  no  use. 

Struh-La  prevailed.  He  spoke  gently,  and  said: 
"There  is  absolutely  no  danger;  the  detective  who  has 

no 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

been  on  duty  over  the  jewels  is  off  on  other  business ; 
there  is  nothing  very  much  easier  than  this  piece  of 
work.  It  will  be  much  more  facile  than  even  was  the 
appropriation  of  the  flame  stones  which  Madame  la 
Countesse  de  Chailly  had  acquired — you  remember?" 
She  inclined  her  head.  "And  at  this  point  it  is  my 
intention  to  divide  circumstances  so  that  maybe  your 
activity  may  not  be  really  required — only  your  passive 
obedience." 

She  then  stood  differently  from  the  cowering  pose 
his  presence  always  caused  her  to  assume,  and  said : 

"I  will  not  obey  you!  You  may  kill  me,  but  I  will 
not  steal  for  you  again.  You  are  the  thief!" 

"No,  no,"  he  replied  soothingly.  "Now,  Luliani, 
that  is  not  true.  I  am  not  a  thief.  I  have  regained 
my  own.  I  may  employ  you  to  work  for  me,  as  an 
amanuensis  is  employed.  Is  it  not  so?  Now,"  he 
went  on,  "don't  think  because  you  are  so  much  liked 
— loved — you  call  it — by  this  man  Stevens  that  that 
can  keep  you  from  obeying  me.  I  tell  you,  no. 
Never.  Your  soul  is  my  property,  and  both  he  and 
you  may  fight  all  you  choose;  I  win.  I  intend  to 
marry  you  myself,  quite  legally,  presently,  and  then, 
we  shall  see!"  His  eyes  fastened  themselves  upon 
the  spiritual  purity  of  her  face  as  if  they  would  de- 
vour it. 

in 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

She  stood  rigid,  paralyzed,  it  would  seem,  by  his 
supremacy  over  her. 

"It  will  be  San  Francisco;  then  Europe;  then  the 
far,  far  East,  where  you  and  I  were  both  born,  and 
you  shall  bathe  in  the  dust  of  diamonds;  you  shall 
be  clothed  in  stringing  pearls.  You  shall  tread  upon 
sapphires,  rubies,  emeralds;  the  flame  opals  shall  glis- 
ten on  you — all  but  the  talisman — and  you  shall  be- 
long to  me,  and  not  to  Mr.  Stevens.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

She  inclined  her  head. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  with  authority. 

She  sat  down. 

"Now,  wait  until  I  call  for  you ;  then  come  out  and 
do  as  you  are  guided." 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  her  head  for  a  moment, 
gathered  his  gorgeous  mandarin  robes  about  him, 
waved  his  fan,  listened  at  the  rear  door  after  unlock- 
ing the  main  one;  opened  the  rear  one  and  left  her. 
No  sooner  had  he  quitted  the  room  than,  with  a  hasty 
tap,  Mr.  Austin  came  in  and  walked  straight  up  to 
Luliani  de  Fontanges. 

He  said:  "Miss  de  Fontanges,  my  brother-in-law 
has  just  told  me  of  the  indignity  you  have  suffered 
at  the  hands,  literally,  of  one  of  the  guests  beneath 
my  roof."  It  wasn't  Forrie's  roof,  not  a  tile  or  a  nail 

112 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

of  it,  but  he  always  spoke  in  a  lordly  way  of  his 
wife's  real  estate;  and  just  now  he  was  more  terribly 
in  earnest  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  somewhat 
speculative  and  wholly  roving  existence. 

"It's  a  wretched  grief  to  me  to  think  that  a  blow 
could  be  struck  by  any  woman  I  knovr,  and  to  a 
woman!" 

Miss  de  Fontanges  put  up  her  hand  and  touched  the 
blazing  spot  on  her  cheek  and  temple,  but  said 
nothing. 

"I've  told  Mrs.  Austin  that  Miss  Wilmerding  must 
leave  here  to-morrow." 

Luliani  shook  her  head. 

"But  she  must,"  he  persisted.  "I  would  not  permit 
any  one  to  stop  with  us  who  could  be  guilty  of  such 
a  thing,  and  when  it  comes  to  its  being  you  whom 
she  struck" — Forrie  sat  down  by  his  daughter's  gov- 
erness— "that's  rather  a  stroke  beyond."  He  looked 
at  her;  her  eyes  responded  clearly  to  his;  he  leaned 
a  bit  nearer  to  her;  she  did  not  move.  "Don't  you 
know?"  Austin  said  in  a  low,  quick  way. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  love  you."     She  remained  expressionless,  silent. 

"I've  said  those  words  to  a  lot  of  women  before  in 
my  time,"  Forrie  said  concisely,  "but  I  never  knew 
what  I  was  saying.  No,  I  didn't.  I  suppose  you're 

"3 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

thinking  that  I'm  a  married  man  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing?"  He  looked  at  her  again. 

She  inclined  her  head,  as  if  it  were  a  physical 
combat  with  inertia  to  do  so. 

"Yes,  I  know,  of  course.  But  unluckily,  or  luckily, 
which  is  it,  I  wonder?  men  and  women  who  have 
made  mistaken  marriages  go  right  on  loving  the  right 
people  when  they  meet  them  just  as  if  the  wedding 
ceremony  had  never  been  performed." 

Luliani  tried  to  rise,  but  she  could  not. 

"I  tell  you!"  Forrie  went  on,  occupied  with  his 
own  novel  feelings,  "you're  the  one  woman  in  the 
world  I'd  give  up  everything  I  have  for.  Yes,  I 
would.  You  just  say  the  word,  and  I'll  run  out  to 
Dakota,  establish  a  residence,  and  in  a  year  we  could 
be  married." 

Still  she  did  not  speak.  She  realized  what  he  was 
saying,  but  she  was  unable  to  articulate  or  move.  She 
knew  she  could  do  neither  until  her  soul  should  be  at 
liberty. 

"Shall  I  do  it?"  Austin  spoke  with  infinite  pur- 
pose. He  took  her  hand ;  it  was  cold,  limp ;  he  sprang 
up.  "I  say!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  a  brute,  I  suppose; 
all  men  are,  more  or  less;  but  if  you  could  care  a  bit 
about  me  it  would  make  a  man  of  me,  perhaps."  She 
now  tried  very  hard  to  look  at  him,  and  the  effort 

114 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

was  possibly  apparent,  for,  reassured,  he  reseated  him- 
self. "It's  only  fair  you  should  know  it  all."  Her 
eyelids  fell  and  rose;  with  a  subliminal  sense  she 
actually  felt  the  keen  humor  of  the  situation.  In  the 
midst  of  the  web  which  the  Mongolian  was  weaving 
around  her,  she  yet  had  the  super  faculties  to  recog- 
nize the  transcendent  foolery  of  this  man's  talking  to 
her  in  this  way.  Since  Reginald  Stevens'  love,  must 
not  any  other  man's  confession  sound  dull,  or,  at  any 
rate,  somewhat  absurd? 

But  De  Forrest  Austin  was  not  taking  himself  seri- 
ously for  the  first  time  in  his  thirty-eight  years  for 
nothing.  He  continued:  "I  married  Betty  Warren 
for  her  money,  for  the  many  millions  which  her  ma- 
ternal grandmother  left  to  her.  I'd  knocked  about 
the  world  a  good  bit;  I'd  worked  and  slaved  hard;  I 
couldn't  succeed.  I  wanted  rest  and  comfort,  and 
ease  of  mind  and  body.  Ease  of  mind,"  he  said,  in 
a  parenthetical  way,  "isn't  just  what  a  chap  finds  in 
this  kind  of  wedded  life;  still  I  chanced  it,  and  I  got 
all  I  was  looking  for.  Betty  and  I  pulled  together 
fairly  well  for  a  time.  She  was  under  the  delusion 
most  women  hug,  that  a  man  who  asks  them  to  marry 
him  must  love  them;  I  didn't.  I  wanted  to  be  taken 
care  of,  and  Betty  has  done  it.  I  was  a  cad,  of  course. 
I  haven't  been  a  whole  man  since  the  hour  that  made 

"5 


T.HE   FLAME   DANCER 

me  her  husband.  At  first  I  didn't  realize  it ;  then  I  did 
realize  it  and  didn't  care;  then  I  lived  along,  saying: 
'What's  the  use?'  then  I  took  to  amusing  myself  with 
other  women.  Oh,  she  knew  it ;  she  didn't  care.  Then 
I  met  you,  and  humiliation  overtook  me.  I  know  as 
well  as  you  can  tell  me  that  I'll  never  be  a  whole 
man  until  I  walk  out  of  Betty's  house  without  a  cent 
of  her  money  in  my  pocket,  get  a  position  on  any  sort 
of  a  salary,  hire  a  hall  bedroom  and  live  in  it.  What 
I  need  is  the  tonic  of  self-dependence,  and,  by  God! 
if  you'll  only  tell  me  to  hope,  I'll  quit  this  very  day." 
He  got  up,  pushing  back  the  point-lace  ruffles  from 
his  velvet  cuffs  and  the  long  curls  of  the  Stuart  wig 
he  wore  framing  his  earnest,  flushed  face. 

"Luliani  de  Fontanges!"  He  whispered  her  name. 
'Tm  true  with  you,  aboveboard.  If  you  turn  me 
down  I'll  keep  on  eating  the  bread  she  provides,  wear- 
ing the  duds  she  pays  for,  riding  and  driving  her 
horses;  lying  from  year's  end  to  year's  end.  The 
whole  business  is  a  ghastly,  cheap  lie  that  deceives 
no  one  except  perhaps  the  woman;  but  if  you'll  give 
me  a  hope,  I'll  cut  it  all,  go  out  there,  take  a  job  as 
a  car  conductor,  and  work  it  up  until  I  have  a  little 
home  for  you.  I'd  be  free  in  a  twelvemonth. 
You're  thinking  of  Betty?"  for  the  girl  was  silent. 
"No  need;  Betty's  got  her  fortune.  Men  are  very 

116 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

plenty  in  the  world  of  a  woman  with  an  income,  and 
the  biggest  mistake  any  chap  can  make  is  to  suppose 
his  wife  will  be  inconsolable  if  she  loses  him  by  way 
of  a  divorce  any  more  than  by  death.  Pure  fiction. 
We're  not  necessary  to  any  one,  dearly  as  we  love  to 
believe  it." 

There  was  something  so  peculiarly  passive  in  the 
hand  within  his  that  Austin  stared.  Her  eyes  were 
closed;  she  breathed  with  the  even  regularity  of  a 
child;  she  was,  he  supposed,  asleep.  While  he  looked 
at  her  with  fond,  devouring  eyes  he  beheld,  with  a 
more  painful  distinctness,  the  mark  of  Bertha  Wil- 
merding's  blow  branding  her  skin.  He  glanced 
around,  bent,  and  with  the  intense,  best  feeling  of 
his  whole  vapid  life  he  laid  his  warm  lips  full  upon 
that  scarlet  scar. 

She  did  not  stir.  Austin  slowly  crossed  the  room 
to  the  main  door,  and  went  away;  reaching  the  hall, 
he  paused  at  one  of  the  large  windows  which  gave 
upon  the  stable  yard;  he  pushed  aside  the  curtains 
and  slipped  into  the  space  of  the  bow ;  he  glanced  out ; 
he  was  thinking  of  his  own  wreckage  of  his  own  life, 
wondering  if  at  last  he  would  be  helped  to  throw  off 
the  chains  that  had  made  a  serf  of  him  for  twelve 
long  years;  wondering  if  the  girl  whose  cruel  experi- 
ence with  Bertha  Wilmerding  had  caused  her  to  fall 

117 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

asleep  in  his  presence  would  be  the  one  to  lead  him 
to  a  recovery  of  his  lost  manhood.  Austin  knew  him- 
self pretty  well.  He  glanced  down  into  the  stable 
yard,  attracted  by  the  gleam  of  two  lanterns  and  the 
opening  of  the  heavy  doors  from  the  porte-cochere; 
a  long  black  wagon  with  a  black  horse  was  driven 
in;  a  man  on  the  box  got  down,  a  tall  man  in  a  gray 
mackintosh,  and  cap,  with  a  full  reddish  beard  and 
moustache;  the  breeze  blew  aside  his  mackintosh  and 
Austin  saw  that  he  was  in  evening  dress  under  it; 
another  man  alighted  from  the  black  wagon,  a  short, 
thick-set  man,  and  he  walked  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon 
and  let  down  the  backboard.  The  taller  man  glanced 
up  at  the  window  where  Austin  stood,  and  walked 
quickly  to  the  wagon,  turned  up  the  backboard,  spoke 
to  the  short  man,  gave  him  a  cigar,  and  they  both 
began  to  smoke.  Austin  did  not  give  them  much 
thought.  "Caterers,"  was  his  impression. 

His  own  father's  lifeless  body  lay  inside  that  black 
wagon,  and  as  he  looked  unconsciously  down  at  it 
the  son  experienced  perhaps  the  noblest  aspirations  of 
which  he  was  capable.  It  is,  however,  only  just  to  a 
large  proportion  of  the  world  to  allow  that  it  would 
characterize  Mr.  De  Forrest  Austin's  projected  di- 
vorce scheme,  remarriage,  and  especially  his  giving 
up  of  the  peaceful  sharing  of  an  immense  income,  a 

118 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

gross  abandonment  of  duty  spelled  with  the  largest 
sort  of  a  "D."  It  is  so  easy  to  make  duty  and  com- 
fort meet  and  kiss  each  other  when  responsibility  and 
hard  work  are  on  the  other  side  of  the  medal. 

Jaffray,  as  soon  as  Mr.  Austin  left  the  hall  window, 
was  about  to  give  his  directions  to  the  undertaker, 
when,  for  the  second  time,  his  operations  were  inter- 
rupted, and  with  a  nod  he  again  stopped  the  moving 
of  De  Forrest  Austin's  father's  corpse  from  the  black 
wagon  to  the  harness-room.  This  stay  of  proceedings 
was  caused  by  no  less  a  personage  than  Struh-La, 
although  he  had  thrown  a  satin  domino  over  his  man- 
darin costume  before  venturing  near  the  window  from 
which  he  peered  behind  the  well-drawn  crimson-lined 
hood  of  his  latest  disguise. 

The  professor,  having  noted,  as  he  did  most  things, 
that  the  detective  was  absent  from  his  post,  under- 
took to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  missing  man, 
for,  like  all  self-centered  persons,  he  associated  any- 
thing unusual  with  himself  and  his  movements.  His 
acute  ear  had  noticed  the  sound  of  arriving  wheels  in 
the  stable  yard.  He  did  not  hesitate  at  combining  this 
sound  with  Jaffray's  absence,  and  the  two  with  his 
own  plans.  He  sought  the  dining-room,  having  se- 
cured from  the  men's  dressing-room  the  domino  with 
which  he  had  taken  care  to  provide  himself  in  case 

119 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

of  many  necessities  he  could  foresee.  Thus  clad,  he 
had  threaded  the  throng  of  eaters  and  drinkers,  made 
his  way  to  the  window,  enveloped  himself  in  the 
heavy  curtains,  and  taken  in  the  wagon  and  the  de- 
tective— whose  beard  and  Inverness  proved  no  armor 
against  his  eyes. 


120 


THE  'FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHAT     REGGIE    SAW 

STRUH-LA  no  sooner  beheld  Jaffray,  and  saw 
that  J  affray's  movements  were  arrested  by  sight 
of  him,  than  he  withdrew  like  a  shot  from  his 
coign  of  vantage  and  emerged  into  the  dining-room, 
drawing  off  as  he  did  so  the  domino  and  leaving  it 
lying  in  a  heap  in  a  corner.  He  accepted  a  plate  of 
food,  drank  a  cup  of  punch,  sauntered  toward  the 
picture-gallery.  It  was  deserted,  not  a  soul  there ;  all 
the  brilliant  throng  were  compressed  into  the  dining 
and  billiard-rooms  where  the  seated  supper  was  being 
served  by  every  servant  in  the  house  excepting  the 
maids  in  the  ladies'  dressing-room  and  the  butler  at 
the  front  door.  The  Chinese  sauntered  back  again 
whence  he  had  come,  his  hands  clasped  about  his  fan 
and  umbrella.  He  perceived  Betty  progressing  mer- 
rily from  table  to  table,  a  laugh  here,  a  jest  there,  a 
few  words  to  each  quartet;  there  was  such  a  jam  of 
people  that  really  one's  hostess,  or  what  she  did,  or 
left  undone,  would  not  count  for  much  with  the  horde 
until  the  next  day  when  they  might  be  "talking  it 

121 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

over."  So  when  Mrs.  Austin  glided  away  from  her 
gay  groups  of  friends,  with  a  pink  cake  in  her  fin- 
gers, and,  as  if  with  no  particular  intent,  went 
through  the  first  and  second  drawing-rooms  and 
thence  into  the  vacant  gallery,  no  one  realized  her  de- 
parture. She  made  a  picturesque  figure  as  she  walked 
along,  with  downcast  eyelids,  the  pink  cake  still  fanci- 
fully poised  between  her  right  finger  and  thumb — her 
magnificent  train  of  gold  brocade  trailing  a  couple  of 
yards  behind  her,  its  rose-colored  ostrich  border 
fringing  and  sweeping  the  polished  floor;  the  match- 
less flame  jewels  shimmering  and  scintillating  about 
her  throat,  ears,  arms,  waist,  while  the  glow  of  the 
electrics  seemed  to  touch  the  talisman  on  her  head 
into  a  rainbow  of  glory.  Betty  walked  to  the  farthest 
end  of  the  place,  to  the  Flemish  fireplace,  above  which 
was  hung  a  wonderful  Greuze  head.  On  this  picture 
and  on  the  mistress  of  the  house  both,  the  fitful  radi- 
ance of  the  soft-coal  fire  leaped  and  ruddied.  Me- 
chanically, it  seemed,  Mrs.  Austin,  still  balancing  the 
ridiculous  little  pink  cake,  rolled  one  of  the  big  Flem- 
ish armchairs  up  in  front  of  the  fire.  She  sat  down  in 
it,  her  lids  flickered  a  bit,  but  did  not  close ;  she  leaned 
back,  her  muscles  relaxed,  one  of  her  hands  fell  list- 
lessly at  her  side,  but  the  other  remained  in  rigid 
tribute  to  the  little  pink  cake. 

122 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

This  was  less  than  ten  minutes  from  the  time  when 
Strtih-La  quitted  the  study,  leaving  Luliani  asleep. 
The  door  to  the  private  stairs  in  the  study  opened 
and  little  Jean  came  in.  She  was  in  her  nightgown,  as 
wide  awake  as  a  child  could  be,  for  her  eyes  were 
large  and  staring — one  might  have  said  with  a  mix- 
ture of  fright  and  amusement,  if  such  a  combination 
can  be  conceived. 

"I  heard  everything,"  she  said  at  once.  Then  the 
fright  that  seemed  to  lie  behind  her  staring  glance 
became  the  dominant  emotion,  for  her  governess  sat 
still  and  made  no  answer.  The  child  went  up  to  her 
and  laid  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Miss  de  Fontanges,  what  is  the  matter?"  cried 
Jean.  "I  tell  you  I  heard  everything.  Can't  you 
hear?  Oh,  dear,  what  has  happened?" 

Jean  drew  away  in  doubt  and  alarm. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  repeated,  this  time  to 
herself,  although  her  eyes  sought  every  corner  of  the 
room,  as  if  from  somewhere  an  answer  might  come 
to  her  anxious  question.  "It's  Struh-La,"  she  whis- 
pered. "I  feel  Struh-La  somewhere  near  me."  She 
shuddered;  there  was  an  impulse  to  find  her  mother. 
She  looked  down  at  her  nightgown.  It  would  not 
Ho.  She  disappeared  through  the  private  doorway 
and  was  absent  a  minute.  When  she  returned  she 

123 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

wore  a  big  loose  kimona  belonging  to  Luliani,  which 
she  held  from  the  floor  so  that  the  skirts  should  not 
drag  and  trip  her. 

"Miss  de  Fontanges!"  she  cried  once  more,  before 
she  left  the  room,  but  still  the  governess  sat  silent. 
"I  borrowed  your  kimona.  I'm  going  to  mother.  I 
must.  I  can't  help  it." 

Jean  hurried  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs. 
She  paused  in  the  balcony — unoccupied — and  looked 
the  ballroom  over.  It  was  empty;  the  child  gasped 
with  a  little  trepidation  at  the  thought  of  invading 
the  dining-room  to  find  her  mother.  No  other  per- 
son would  do. 

She  went  quickly  on  down-stairs,  looking  about  her 
as  she  went,  and  so  in  a  moment  came  to  the  entrance 
to  the  picture-gallery  and  saw  her  mother  sitting  be- 
fore the  fireplace. 

Jean  went  into  the  gallery.  So  much  is  certain,  for 
a  moment  later,  just  how  much  later  nobody  can  say, 
Stevens  met  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  her  face 
turned  upward.  The  child  was  evidently  in  deep  dis- 
tress ;  therefore,  she  attracted  the  man's  attention. 

Ordinarily  he  might  have  smiled  merely  and  passed 
on  with  the  thought  that  it  was  natural  for  a  little 
girl  to  get  out  of  bed  on  the  occasion  of  a  fancy  ball 
in  her  own  home,  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  gaily 

124 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

dressed  crowd.  It  happened  that  Stevens  himself  had 
found  the  atmosphere  of  the  dining-room  intolerable. 
He  was  solitary  in  the  crush  of  humanity  about  him. 
His  heart  and  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  and  the 
impulse  which  stirred  him  was  to  go  back  to  the  study. 
He  came  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  saw  Jean. 

"What  is  the  matter,  little  one?"  he  asked. 

She  stopped  abruptly,  holding  the  kimona  up  be- 
fore her,  a  deep  fold  depending  from  her  hands.  Her 
eyes  were  wild  and  her  lips  widely  parted.  She  tried 
to  speak,  but  could  not. 

"Jean,"  said  Stevens,  "are  you  frightened?" 

She  choked,  broke  into  a  quivering  sob,  hastened 
blunderingly  up  the  stairs,  holding  that  deep  fold 
tightly  in  her  grasp. 

Stevens  watched  her  curiously  for  a  moment  and 
then  a  smile  broke  upon  him. 

"Poor  kid,"  said  he,  "she  has  disobeyed  orders, 
been  reprimanded,  her  little  heart  is  breaking.  Con- 
found it,  I'd  give  her  the  pleasure  of  seeing  an  affair 
like  this!" 

He  heard  the  door  of  the  study  open,  and  this 
sound  determined  his  course — he  would  not  return  to 
Luliani. 

Stevens  went  back  to  the  supper-room,  but  he  was 
Mneasy  there;  he  wanted  to  be  alone.  The  conserva- 

125 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

tory?  No,  probably  two  people  at  least  there,  some 
man  and  some  woman.  The  big  drawing-rooms  ?  He 
glanced  at  their  stupid  spaciousness,  all  arranged  for 
the  after-supper  cotillion  which,  by  the  way,  he  him- 
self was  to  lead;  no.  The  picture-gallery?  To  be 
sure,  the  very  spot.  He  walked  quickly  along  the 
hall  to  the  first  entrance  arch,  and  his  eyes  met  the 
seated  figure  of  his  hostess.  Reggie  smiled  at  the 
complacent  ingenuity  which  had  bade  adieu  to  seven 
hundred  people  at  the  height  of  a  crush  ball,  and 
amusedly  speculated  as  to  whom  the  man  might  be 
for  whose  sake  Betty  Austin  was  sitting  things  out 
on  this  especial  occasion.  He  looked  about — there 
was  no  apparent  man.  And  yet  he  felt  assured  that 
Betty  was  awaiting  some  one. 

Stevens  had  no  mind  to  spy:  he  was  the  man  who 
could  and  did  turn  his  back  and  his  memory  on  any 
fact  inauspicious  to  another.  Ordinarily  he  would 
have  gotten  away  from  Betty,  under  these  conditions, 
as  fast  as  possible;  this  time  he  stood  there  in  the 
arched  passageway,  which  was  one  of  three  giving  on 
the  picture-gallery  of  the  Austin  house.  He  stood  a 
bit  to  one  side,  leaning  unconsciously  against  the  col- 
umn; his  eyes  were  fascinated  by  Betty's  pink  cake 
so  carefully  poised  in  her  well-gloved  right  hand. 
He  was  subliminally  conscious,  if  one  chooses  so  to 

126 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

regard  it,  of  another  presence  nearer  to  him  than  Mrs. 
Austin's,  when  suddenly  into  this  negative  atmos- 
phere surrounding  him  there  flashed  a  vivid  sense  of 
something  different.  There  was  a  fragrance,  a  hush 
as  before  the  dawn,  a  sound  as  of  the  wings  of  birds 
brushing  aside  cool  branches,  a  sweep  of  breeze-laden 
with  auroral  freshness.  His  heart  beat  to  bursting. 
Then  he  saw  her  coming  down  the  hall,  her  blue  eyes 
looking  straight  before  her,  her  lips  a  little  apart,  as 
he  loved  to  see  them.  She  even  brushed  past  him, 
unheeding,  and  he  shrank  and  panted,  watching  her 
as  she  went. 

For  Luliani  went  on  with  the  mystical  gait  of  one 
completely  absorbed  in  accomplishment.  There  was 
nothing  purposeless  about  her.  Stevens  had  never 
seen  her  so  energized.  She  approached  Betty  Austin, 
her  gray  gown  trailing  a  little  after  her.  To  be  sure, 
she  had  come  on  some  urgent  message  to  the  mother 
from  the  child  Jean. 

Stevens  watched  it  all  without  a  thought.  To 
watch  Luliani  de  Fontanges  that  night  was  much  the 
same  to  him  as  breathing;  both  were  necessary  to  the 
fact  of  living  on. 

No :  she  did  not  speak,  nor  did  Betty.  Betty  sat  still 
in  her  Flemish  chair,  the  pink  cake  poised  in  her 
fingers  ready  to  be  eaten;  the  music  crashed  out  its 

127 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

luscious  rhythm  from  the  balcony;  the  voices  of  the 
revelers  sounded  afar;  the  clink  of  crystal  and  the 
jingle  of  silver  and  china  was  audible;  and  yet  this 
was  a  spot  where  silence  reigned  to  the  point  of  suf- 
focation. 

Neither  of  the  two  women  spoke:  one  of  them  did 
not  move  a  muscle:  the  other  one  leaned  above  the 
back  of  the  Flemish  chair  for  a  second,  then  she 
sprang  away  as  if  governed  by  some  newer  but  irre- 
sistible influence,  reaching  out  her  arms;  her  lips 
parted,  but  there  was  no  cry.  Betty  moved  her  head 
a  trifle;  Luliani  glided  to  the  electric  board  and 
touched  a  button. 

As  she  did  so  Stevens,  with  the  impulse  of  any 
manly  man,  got  away  as  fast  as  he  could.  Luliani, 
of  course,  was  executing  Betty's  orders,  he  under- 
stood that,  and  was  chagrined  if  not  surprised.  He 
went  into  the  dining-room.  Some  one  gave  him  a 
glass  of  champagne.  He  took  it;  then  recognized 
from  whose  hand  he  had  accepted  it.  Bertha's.  He 
had  been  raising  it  to  his  lips,  but,  with  a  decided 
emphasis,  he  gave  it  untouched  to  a  passing  footman. 
Miss  Wilmerding  was  nothing  if  not  adventurous 
and  persevering. 

"Pshaw,  Reggie!"  she  whispered.     "Don't  be  quite 

128 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

an  idiot  because  a  girl  cares  enough  about  you  to 
strike  another  girl  on  your  account." 

Stevens  looked  her  full  in  her  black  eyes;  all  he 
thought  was  what  a  misplacement  Providence  had 
perpetrated  when  it  put  Miss  Wilmerding  where  she 
was  instead  of  on  the  lower  east  side  of  town. 

As  soon  as  the  governess  had  done  as  she  had  been 
bidden — as  soon  as  Reggie  Stevens  reached  the  sup- 
per-room, in  fact — by  the  dim  light  from  the  other 
rooms  Luliani  could  have  been  seen  retracing  her 
steps,  hurrying  up  the  stairs,  evidently  bent  on  the 
schoolroom.  But  at  the  first  landing  giving  on  the 
little  balcony  she  halted,  sank  upon  the  step,  and  her 
breath  came  pantingly.  She  leaned  there  for  possibly 
three  minutes  by  the  clock.  She  heard  not  only  the 
far-off  revelry  of  the  feast,  but  nearer,  two  voices. 
They  spoke  swiftly  in  whispers:  then  there  was  si- 
lence; and  as  Luliani  rose  she  recognized  the  peculiar 
low  laugh  of  Struh-La.  She  heard  a  soft,  quick 
footfall  ascending ;  when  she  looked  over  her  shoulder 
she  beheld  Miss  Wilmerding,  who  was  coming  up  to 
the  dressing-room,  no  doubt  for  a  fresh  dose  of  pow- 
der. Their  eyes  met;  Bertha  passed  on,  the  gov- 
erness went  into  the  study  and  shut  the  door.  Pres- 
ently, below,  Betty's  pink  cake  dropped  to  the  polished 
floor  with  a  disastrous  rattle;  she  laughed,  tried  to 

129 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

see  around;  the  darkness  and  the  sudden  sense  of 
being  alone — for  alone  she  now  was — alarmed  her,  in 
a  way.  She  looked  out  to  the  supper-room.  She 
saw  Struh-La  just  threading  his  way  in  and  becoming 
absorbed  in  conversation  with  Doctor  Warren. 

She  saw  Stevens  not  far  from  the  Chinaman;  she 
even  heard  what  was  being  said.  She  was  about  to 
cry  gaily  out  and  scold  about  the  lights  having  gone 
out,  when  some  one  said,  as  she  gained  the  supper- 
room:  "Why,  Mrs.  Austin,  where  are  your  jewels?" 

And  instantly  the  consternation  of  one  became  the 
consternation  of  all. 


130 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  MAN   FROM    HEADQUARTERS 

FRRIE  rushed  to  his  wife. 
"Where's  Jaffray?"  he  demanded  in  a  fren- 
zied way. 

"Here,  Mr.  Austin."  Jaffray  had  joined  the  group 
about  Mrs.  Austin  before  her  husband  reached  it,  but 
Forrie,  in  his  excitement,  had  not  seen  the  detective. 

Betty  Austin  laughed  hysterically.  There  was  an 
entire  silence  in  the  big  rooms;  one  could  have  heard 
the  traditional  pin  drop;  one  did  hear  the  swish  of 
Struh-La's  fan. 

"Jaffray,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  asked  the 
master  of  the  house,  in  no  restrained  tone.  "Have 
you  had  your  eyes  on  the  jewels,  or  have  you  not, 
this  evening?" 

"I  have  not — not  all  the  evening,  Mr.  Austin,"  was 
the  deferential  reply. 

"Why  not?"  thundered  Austin.  "How  did  you 
presume  to  absent  yourself;  how  did  you  dare,  eh?, 
Answer  me,  with  jewels  of  the  value  of  over  two 
millions  in  your  keeping?" 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

iThe  man  from  headquarters  was  silent;  he  did  not 
even  glance  at  Betty  Austin,  although  he  had  a  for- 
lorn hope  that  she  might  come  in  some  fashion  to 
his  rescue.  She  didn't.  She  began  to  cry,  to  scream, 
to  bemoan  her  lost  treasures,  while  the  women 
crowded  around  "her,  and  many  of  the  men,  too; 
Struh-La,  on  the  outer  fringe  of  the  buzzing  group, 
still  fanning  himself. 

Jaffray  at  once  ordered  every  door  in  the  house 
guarded,  and  forbade  the  footmen  to  allow  any  one, 
no  matter  who,  to  go  in  or  out.  Then  he  asked  Mrs. 
Austin  to  tell  him  how  the  gems  had  been  stolen. 

"As  if  I  knew!"  cried  Betty,  and  her  eyes  invol- 
untarily flashed  over  at  Struh-La. 

"But  you  must  know!"  exclaimed  her  astounded 
husband.  "They  were  on  you,  Betty.  No  human 
being  could  have  taken  them  off  without  your  being 
aware  of  it." 

"Were  you  drugged,  do  you  think?"  inquired 
Stevens. 

"No!"  she  answered,  and  her  voice  was  gentle  and 
she  almost  smiled. 

"Were  you  seized,  held,  tied  down,  blinded,  choked, 
gagged?  Try,  Mrs.  Austin,  to  remember.  Please  try 
to  collect  yourself,"  the  detective  spoke  soothingly. 

"Nothing  of  the  sort!"  she  answered.  "I  remem- 

132 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

ber:  I  was  eating  a  cake;  I  came  into  the  gallery  for 

something  or  other "     She  hesitated,  and  again 

her  wandering  eyes  went   over   Struh-La,  and  Jaf- 
fray's  eyes  followed  hers. 

"Alone,  Mrs.  Austin?"  asked  the  detective. 

"I — don't  know.  Yes,  yes,  alone,  of  course."  Mrs. 
Austin's  manner  was  awkward  and  hesitant. 

Jaffray  noted  it  and  instantly  jumped  to  conclu- 
sions. 

"And  how  long  did  you  stop  in  the  picture-gal- 
lery?" he  asked  next. 

"I  don't  know,  I  don't  know."     Betty  shivered. 

"It's  a  curious  business."  The  detective  drew 
back,  taking  Austin  with  him.  He  was  telling  Betty's 
husband  that  every  guest  in  the  house,  every  servant, 
every  employe  of  any  kind  must  be  searched  thor- 
oughly and  at  once. 

At  this  moment  Bertha  Wilmerding  came  rustling 
in,  very  much  in  evidence. 

"What  is  it?"  she  cried,  as  she  beheld  her  friend 
shorn  of  her  jewels. 

The  Chinese  said,  still  fanning  himself:  "A  great 
robbery.  All  the  jewels — all!" 

"Who  took  them?"  she  said,  a  strange  light  darting 
into  her  black,  brilliant  eyes. 

"No  one  knows,"  answered  Mrs.  Brockton. 

133 


T.HE  FLAME  DANCER 

r/  "Betty,  what's  the  matter  with  you?"  cried  Bertha, 
shaking  her  hostess  violently,  at  which  Betty  laughed 
a  bit  incoherently.  "Who  stole  them?  Tell  us;  you 
must  know!  You're  not  a  baby  or  an  idiot  to  have 
Reggie's  ropes  of  flame  opals  and  your  own  pearls 
and  diamonds  and  things  stripped  off  of  you  without 
knowing  it!  Why,  your  earrings  are  gone,  too;  your 
bracelets!  Where's  Mr.  Jaffray?" 

"I  am  here,  Miss  Wilmerding."  The  detective 
stepped  up  close  to  her.  Something  in  her  attitude 
demanded  him;  he  came.  He  continued  in  a  very 
much  lowered  tone:  "You  are  so  intimate  with  Mrs. 
Austin,  tell  me  in  confidence:  does  she  take  drugs?" 

"Never."  Bertha  looked  the  man  in  the  eyes,  then 
she  lowered  her  lids  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

Jaffray  laid  his  hand  on  this  girl's  arm  and  drew; 
"her  aside  from  the  crowd. 

"You  suspect  some  one?"  he  asked. 

"I  do." 

"Who  is  it?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

•**  "Miss  Wilmerding,  no  matter  whom  you  suspect, 
it  is  your  bounden  duty  to  tell  me.  We  can  submit 
it  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Austin,  and,  if  they  refuse  their 
sanction,  of  course  I  am  powerless;  but  they  will 

134 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

hardly  do  so  to  a  loss  of  seven  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  excluding  Mr.  Stevens'  opals." 

Bertha  still  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  bit  her  lips. 

"Man  or  woman?"  urged  Jaffray. 

Bertha  hesitated;  then  ejaculated:  "Woman." 

"Guest?"  pursued  the  detective. 

Miss  Wilmerding  shook  her  head. 

"Servant?" 

Again  a  silent  negative. 

"Member  of  the  family?"  Jaffray  went  on  in  an 
even,  businesslike  tone. 

Bertha  vouchsafed  a  nondescript  motion  with  her 
head  and  made  to  break  away. 

"No,"  said  the  detective,  now  bringing  his  unde- 
niably handsome  eyes  to  his  aid.  This  girl  appealed 
to  this  man:  she  was  the  first  woman  who  ever  had. 

"Now,  I  am  sure,  Miss  Wilmerding,  you  will  tell 
me" — his  emphasis  was  on  the  two  pronouns — "what 
I  wish  to  know;  sure  that  you  will  help  me — won't 
you?" 

"Well,"  she  flung  back,  enjoying  the  glance  of  his 
brown  eyes  as  she  smiled,  "find  out  who,  that  lives  in 
the  house,  was  not  invited  to  the  ball  in  any  capacity 
whatever,  was  seen  going  up  the  stairs  when  I  went 
up  to  get  some  powder!" 

"How  long  ago?"  he  begged  eagerly. 

135 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"About  ten  minutes,  I  should  say." 

"Before  I  had  returned  from  the  outside  job?"  he 
said  quickly.  She  nodded. 

"You  saw  her?" 

Bertha  glanced  up  at  him  affirmatively. 

"I  know  the  personnel  of  the  household  thoroughly. 
There  is  only  one  grown  person  out  of  commission 
to-night.  Miss  Wilmerding,  was  the  governess  behind 
or  in  front  of  you?" 

"Ahead  of  me."    Bertha  almost  laughed. 

"Where  did  she  go?"  The  detective's  gaze  was 
steady. 

"Straight  into  the  schoolroom  and  shut  the  door." 

"She  carried?"  His  lips  contracted,  and  he  had  the 
air  of  a  man  coercing  himself  into  an  intolerable 
action. 

"Nothing  visible." 

"Had  on?" 

"No  cloak  or  wrap  of  any  sort." 

"She  must  come  down."  He  stared  piercingly  at 
Bertha  and  noted  her  look  of  smiling  approval. 

He  quitted  Bertha  and  walked  up-stairs  to  the  study 
door,  tapped  lightly,  and  entered.  The  one  bulb  was 
still  shedding  its  circle  of  light.  Luliani,  still  dressed 
in  the  gray  gown  she  had  worn  all  day,  knelt  by  the 
couch  where  she  had  lately  sat  with  Reginald  Ste- 

136 


THE  FLAME   D'ANCER 

vens.  She  did  not  move  when  the  detective  came  in 
and  up  to  her.  She  heard  him,  but  did  not  know  who 
he  was,  nor  did  she  care.  She  did  not  lift  her  head: 
she  was  praying.  He  felt  this,  and,  had  he  obeyed 
his  impulse,  would  have  withdrawn. 

Instead,  he  approached,  touched  her  on  the  shoul- 
der. She  glanced  up,  but  did  not  rise. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  dully. 

"Where  are  the  jewels?"  the  detective  said  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  still  in  the  dull  voice. 

"Come  down-stairs  with  me,"  he  said  in  a  forced 
tone. 

"Certainly,"  she  replied,  rising;  "but  first  tell  me, 
please,  what  for?" 

"No  matter  about  that,"  he  said,  assisting  her,  from 
which  she  withdrew  haughtily.  They  started  together. 
Half-way  down,  at  the  little  alcove  Betty  had  had 
built  before  her  marriage,  they  met  Stevens  coming 
up.  He  barred  their  way.  He  said: 

"Miss  de  Fontanges,  what  brings  you  down  here 
now?" 

"I  do,"  was  the  detective's  reply;  while  Luliani, 
now  growing  full  of  courage,  broke  from  Jaffray's 
side,  darted  toward  Stevens,  and  began  to  speak. 

"I  Want " 

137 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

A  footstep  stopped  her;  Struh-La,  coming  up,  wav- 
ing his  fan.  He  gave  one  supercilious  glance  at  the 
girl  and  said  to  the  trio,  who  had  perforce  stopped 
short  and  were  regarding  him : 

"I  ask  a  thousand  pardons.  I  await  Mr.  Jaffray's 
discoveries  with  so  very  much  interest  and  impatience, 
as  all  Mrs.  Austin's  guests.  Must  I  descend?"  He 
salaamed  and  turned  down-stairs.  "Go  on,  Luliani; 
speak,  dear,"  Reggie  whispered  to  her,  but  she  only 
surveyed  him  in  a  stupid  way  and  looked  at  the  de- 
tective rather  helplessly. 

Then  Stevens  looked  at  the  girl  with  a  fierce  im- 
petuosity. He  made  to  stop  and  take  her  back.  She 
stood  still. 

"Pardon  me,  but  I  can't  allow  even  you  to  stop  Miss 
de  Fontanges  at  this  point,"  Jaffray  said.  "She  must 
go  down  to  the  picture-gallery  with  me." 

They  went  down.  All  the  guests,  fired  by  Miss 
Wilmerding's  innuendoes,  were  gathered  as  by  a  com- 
mon impulse  in  the  gallery,  where,  in  the  weird  tu- 
mult, the  lights  had  not  yet  been  turned  up.  They 
felt  sure  the  thief  was  to  be  unmasked  at  once,  and 
they  were  eager  for  exposure  and  consumed  with 
wonder  as  well. 

De  Forrest  Austin  was  the  first  person  to  descry  the 
detective,  his  charge,  and  the  man  who  followed  them. 

138 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"Pshaw!"  the  master  of  the  house  said  in  his  wife's 
ear,  "what's  that  fool  of  a  Jaffray  doing  bringing  the 
governess  here?" 

"Turn  up  the  lights,  please,  some  one,"  Betty  cried 
in  irrelevant  reply  to  her  lord's  remark. 

The  Chinese  in  his  mandarin's  robes  touched  the 
button,  and  the  place  was  a  flood  of  brilliancy.  It 
seemed  to  some  of  the  lookers-on,  mostly  imaginative 
women,  that  the  whole  electric  force  concentrated  it- 
self upon  the  pale  face  of  the  slight  girl  near  whom 
Jaffray  and  Stevens  both  stood. 

Jaffray  opened  his  lips — possibly  he  did  enunciate 
a  word  or  two.  No  one  heard  it  if  he  did,  because 
Bertha  Wilmerding  darted  to  Luliani,  plucking  from 
the  frail  ruche  at  the  governess'  sleeve  one  of  the  long 
opal  pendants  belonging  to  Betty  Austin's  earrings. 
She  did  not  disengage  it  at  once,  but,  with  a  poignant 
grip,  she  held  up  arm,  sleeve,  niching,  and  jewel  to 
the  gaze  of  those  present. 

Nobody  spoke;  nobody  even  took  breath. 

Then  some  of  the  older  men  shook  their  heads  dis- 
mally— among  them  Struh-La;  the  younger  men 
turned  away  or  looked  at  their  own  shoes.  At  last 
a  dowager  put  up  her  glass  and  whispered  to  her 
neighbor:  "Who  is  she?"  and  the  ice  was  broken. 

139 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Tell  me  where  they  are!"  exclaimed  Betty,  as  if 
some  one  were  goading  her.  "Only  tell  me,  give  them 
back,  and  you  may  go  free.  I'll  never  prosecute  you. 
I'll  give  you  money  and  send  you  back  to  the  Orient 
or  Europe.  I'll  do  anything  for  you — only  give  them 
back  without  my  having  to  make  you." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  shook  her  head.  Jaffray  whis- 
pered a  word  to  her.  Stevens  stepped  in  between  the 
man  and  the  woman,  but  the  woman  stepped  away 
from  them  both,  with  an  exquisitely  dignified  expres- 
sion on  her  face. 

Struh-La  was  near  her.  His  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
her;  he  was  fanning  himself  with  a  certain  non- 
chalance; the  perfume  from  his  sandalwood  fan  came 
to  her.  De  Forrest  Austin  came  to  her;  she  did  not 
even  look  at  him.  She  was  exerting  every  ounce  of 
her  flesh,  brain,  and  soul  to  overcome  now,  here,  once 
for  all,  cost  her  what  it  might;  she  was  vibrating  with 
the  triumph  of  at  last  being  able  to  dash  a  cup  of 
torment  forever  from  her.  She  thrilled  with  power; 
she  felt,  in  those  brief  seconds,  that  Stevens  was  im- 
parting to  her  the  strength  to  throw  off  bonds,  break 
chains ;  she  gloried  in  owing  her  freedom  to  him ;  she 
even  had  the  mad  thought  that  she  was  glad  to  have 
been  a  slave  so  that  this  man  should  set  her  at  liberty. 
All  this  rushed  through  her  brain  while  Bertha  upheld 

140 


'I   WILL   NOT    PERMIT    THE   INDIGNITY    OP   A    SEARCH. 


Page  141. 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

her  arm,  while  Stevens  stepped  nearer  to  her,  while 
Struh-La  waved  his  fan. 

But  then  she  was  silent. 

"Where  are  the  jewels?"  Betty  now  said  to  her, 
and  with  a  mysterious,  unconscious  little  smile  Betty, 
also  glanced  in  a  covertly  languishing  way;  at 
Struh-La. 

"I  do  not  know,"  was  her  answer. 

"They  can't  be  far;  have  her  searched."  Bertha 
nodded  to  Jaffray.  "Have  every  one  leave  the  room, 
please,  except  Mr.  Jaffray."  Bertha  would  not  have 
dared  this  proposition  had  not  Betty  behaved  in  a 
stupid  and  silly  fashion. 

"No,  you  don't,"  exclaimed  De  Forrest  Austin,  ta- 
king Bertha  by  the  arm.  "You'll  get  away  out  of 
this  room  and  house  as  soon  as  you  can.  Hush,"  he 
whispered  to  her  as  she  rebelled  a  little.  "Any  woman, 
that  will  strike  another  woman  must  expect  just  this 
sort  of  treatment." 

While  Austin  was  marching  Miss  Wilmerding 
across  to  the  door,  Stevens  was  at  Luliani's  side.  A 
motion  of  his  uplifted  hand  arrested  not  only  the  de- 
parture of  the  guests,  but  also  stopped  Austin  and 
Bertha  at  the  exit. 

"Miss  de  Fontanges  cannot  be  searched.  I  will  not 
permit  the  indignity  of  a  search  to  be  put  upon  any, 

141 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

.woman  whom  I  hold  in  the  respect  and  esteem  in 
which  I  hold  Miss  de  Fontanges.  She  has  not  been 
arrested;  she  shall  not  be  arrested.  These  jewels  of 
Mrs.  Austin's  are  valued  at  not  to  exceed  seven  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars.  I  will  hand  Mrs.  Austin  my 
cheque  for  that  amount  before  I  leave  her  house.  My 
own  gems  that  I  loaned  her  are  worth  much  more. 
When  her  jewels  are  found,  restored  to  her — as  I  in- 
tend they  shall  be,  if  I  spend  every  dollar  I  own  to 
do  it — then  Mrs.  Austin  can  repay  me." 

Mrs.  Austin  had  gone  closer  and  closer  to  him  as  he 
spoke.  He  turned  to  her,  and  said  in  a  lower  tone: 
"Betty,  I'm  good  for  it,  and  you  can  trust  me  to  find 
the  jewels,  can't  you?" 

"Oh,"  she  cried  sobbingly,  "Reggie!  Reggie! 
Yes,  yes,  yes." 

Stevens  went  on,  very  quietly,  in  restrained  voice: 

"Miss  de  Fontanges  is  engaged  to  marry  me.  She 
has  done  me  the  honor  to  accept  me.  It  is  too  pre- 
posterous for  utterance  that  she  should  have  theft 
fastened  upon  her,  even  for  a  second;  and  ridiculous 
for  the  thief,  whoever  he  was,  to  have  tried  to  so 
fasten  it  by  the  clumsy  trick  of  attaching  to  her  sleeve 
the  pendant  which  Miss  Wilmerding  discovered. 
However,  the  finding  of  that  pendant  is  important  as 
a  clue.  I  have  to  thank  Miss  Wilmerding  for  it.  I  do 

142 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

not  intend  to  rest  until  I  find  its  mate  and  all  the  rest 
of  Mrs.  Austin's  treasures  and  my  own  Oriental 
trinkets." 

Throughout  this  Jaffray  stood  silent,  it  being  his 
part,  from  a  professional  point  of.  view,  to  let  excite- 
ment work  itself  out.  He  was  a  bit  staggered  by 
Stevens'  offer  to  pay  for  Mrs.  Austin's  entire  loss 
and  Mrs.  Austin's  acceptance  of  that  offer.  He  was 
her  employe,  her  friend;  he  was  not  there  as  an  of- 
ficer of  the  law,  and  if  she  should  forbid  him  to  make 
any  further  search  it  was  a  question  whether  he  would 
have  a  right  to  do  so.  But  there  was  much  more 
than  any  doubt  as  to  his  professional  relation  to  the 
affair  to  disturb  him.  Already  the  natural  man  within 
him  was  at  variance  with  the  detective.  Already  he 
had  the  keenest  personal  as  well  as  professional  de- 
sire to  locate  the  missing  jewels.  And  for  once  that 
desire  was  not  inspired  by  pride  in  his  calling. 

Jaffray  was  at  the  threshold  of  the  severest  strug- 
gle he  had  ever  yet  experienced. 

There  was  scarcely  a  woman  who  did  not  agree  that 
a  girl  affianced  to  Reginald  Stevens  would  not  be 
stealing;  hardly  a  man  who  believed  a  girl  with  this 
girl's  face  capable  of  stealing,  anyway;  and  then  the 
entirely  unexpected  delights  of  discussing  Bertha's 
broken  engagement  and  Reginald  Stevens'  new  love! 

143 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Altogether,  such  a  ball  had  never  been  given  in  New 
York  before,  even  omitting  from  its  list  of  novelties 
the  unsuspected  and  unbidden  guest  who  was  awaiting 
its  end  in  the  harness-room  of  the  coach-house. 

Stevens  took  the  pendant  from  Luliani's  sleeve; 
he  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  said  to  her,  because  now 
they  were  quite  alone  in  the  big  room  and  the  mu- 
sicians were  doing  their  utmost  to  reassert  the  pur- 
pose of  the  function,  while  the  servants  resumed  trot- 
ting about  with  trays  and  platters : 

"Come  over  there  and  sit  down  a  minute.  I  want 
to  say  something  to  you." 


144 


THE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 


CHAPTER  X 

"WILT  THOU  TAKE  THIS  MAN?"      "NO." 

SHE  went,  because  he  led  her,  to  an  alcove. 
"The  bishop  is  here  to-night,  did  you  know 
it?"  he  asked,  sitting  down  by  her  and  taking 
her  hands  between  his. 

She  answered:  "I  believe  I  heard  Mrs.  Austin  say 
he  was  asked." 

"Yes,  he's  here.  I  am  going  to  have  him  come  in 
here  and  marry  us." 

"Now !"  Her  eyes  shone  upon  him  with  a  delight, 
a  trust  so  absolute,  that  every  nerve  of  his  body  quiv- 
ered. 

"Yes,  now.  I  will  have  Austin  and  his  wife  and 
Doctor  Warren  for  our  witnesses.  We  will  be  mar- 
ried— then  I  can  take  care  of  you.  I  will  take  you 
to  my  house  to-night  and  leave  you  there  with  my 
housekeeper  for  a  month;  I  will  go  to  the  St.  Regis 
and  come  and  see  you  every  day.  Then  when  you 
have  had  time  to  make  your  arrangements,  your  trous- 
seau, isn't  that  what  it's  called  ?" — he  smiled  a  little — * 
"we  will  go  away  to  Europe,  anywhere,  everywhere 
in  the  wide  world  you  want  to." 

145 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

She  sighed,  and  leaned  a  very  little  nearer  to  him. 
She  wished  to  speak  then  and  tell  him  it  all.  She 
meant  not  to  marry  him  until  he  should  know  her 
life.  She  began  to  speak ;  he  stopped  her. 

"Not  now;  there  is  no  time;  no  matter.  I  don't 
care  to  know  anything  on  earth  or  in  heaven  except 
to  be  sure  that  you  are  mine,  that  my  name  and  I 
belong  to  you.  Sit  still.  I  will  go  and  fetch  the 
bishop  and  the  others.  No  one  else  need  know  it 
until  they  read  it  in  the  papers." 

"But  I  must,  Mr.  Stevens!  You  can't  go  until  I 
tell  you." 

He  looked  down  at  her,  and  said  with  an  infinite 
and  determined  purpose:  "I  love  you,  and  I  know — 
all  that  there  is  to  know  at  present." 

He  went  for  the  bishop,  who  agreed  to  perform  the 
ceremony,  after  a  few  words  from  the  intending 
bridegroom.  In  that  year  of  grace  there  was  no  law 
to  compel  the  contracting  parties  to  take  out  a  license. 
Stevens  found  De  Forrest  Austin  and  asked  him  to 
come. 

Forrie  said :  "Can't  do  it." 

"Why  not?"  the  other  man  inquired. 

Austin  frowned,  sullenly. 

"Why  not?"  reiterated  Stevens,  persistently. 

"Well,"  returned  Austin,  "since  you  will  have  it, 

146 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

the  fact  is  I  love  Luliani  de  Fontanges  myself.  I 
asked  her,  I  mean  I  told  her " 

"Stop!"  Reginald  uttered  the  word  imperatively 
and  turned  on  his  heel. 

He  found  Betty,  and  she  easily  came  with  him,  un- 
dismayed and  keen  for  a  novel  excitement.  She  did 
inquire,  though,  relevantly  enough :  "What  about  Ber- 
tha?" 

"Miss  Wilmerdiing  broke  our  little  arrangement  up 
some  days  ago." 

"Did  she  now?  the  little  fox!  Well,  we  women 
are  paradoxes." 

Warren  came  quietly  enough.  He  was  a  man  who 
admired  Miss  de  Fontanges,  too — not  outspokenly, 
but  with  a  peculiar  taciturnity.  He  was  not  exactly 
grieved  to  see  her  becoming  the  wife  of  a  man  like 
Reginald  Stevens.  He  was  content  in  a  certain  fash- 
ion to  worship  her  from  afar,  without  hope.  She 
represented  religion  to  him:  and  a  man  does  not  as- 
pire to  marry  his  religion. 

{The  bishop  stood  with  Luliani  in  the  picture-gallery 
when  the  other  three  came  in.  Stevens  took  his  place 
at  her  side  before  the  prelate,  Betty  stood  near  her 
daughter's  whilom  governess,  Leo  Warren  was  at 
Reginald's  left  hand.  The  bishop  began:  "Dearly- 
beloved,"  and  proceeded  to  the  end  of  "Hold  his 

147 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

peace."  While  he  spoke  in  a  low,  clear,  impressive 
way,  the  music  from  the  Hungarian  orchestra  sounded 
over  to  them;  even  the  whirr  of  the  dancers'  feet  and 
the  froufrou  of  silks  and  satins,  the  laughter  and 
mirth  easily  renewed  after  the  bit  of  tragedy  to  which 
they  had  all  been  treated. 

Then  the  bishop  went  on,  looking  steadfastly  at  the 
two  in  front  of  him:  "I  require  and  charge  you," 
down  to:  "Is  not  lawful."  Again  a  pause,  and  he 
fixed  his  keen,  earnest  eyes  on  the  bridegroom — he 
had  known  Reggie  Stevens  ever  since  he  was  a  boy — • 
as  he  said:  "Reginald,  wilt  thou,"  and  so  forth. 

Reggie  answered  distinctly,  almost  triumphantly,  it 
seemed  to  Doctor  Warren:  "I  will." 

And  then  the  old  priest  turned  to  the  bride.  They 
all  looked  at  her,  each  of  the  four,  and  to  each,  accord- 
ing to  his  or  her  method  of  expressing  it,  there  seemed 
to  be  surrounding  this  girl  a  species  of  curious  halo,  a 
disk  that  was  scarcely  significant,  yet  of  a  palpable, 
luminous  quality;  an  irridescence,  a  something  unakin 
and  other  than  was  customary. 

"Luliani" — the  bishop  went  on  very  gently  with 
his  address — "wilt  thou,"  and  so  forth  and  so  forth, 
"so  long  as  ye  both  shall  live?" 

There  was  then  a  pause. 

Warren  thought  he  perceived  a  film  of  violet  light 

148 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

no  broader  than  his  finger  striking  down  as  if  from 
somewhere  on  the  little  balcony  straight  upon  Miss 
de  Fontanges'  face.  He  looked  up ;  there  was  no  bulb 
there;  the  curtains  were  closed,  and,  if  they  did  stir, 
it  was  with  the  breeze  from  the  many  open  windows 
above. 

Reggie  touched  her  arm,  glanced  at  the  bishop, 
smiled  to  her.  She  responded  to  his  eyes  with  a  look 
of  profound,  dull  non-comprehension;  otherwise,  she 
was  motionless. 

The  bishop  reassuringly  spoke,  for  he  was  not 
amazed  at  her  nervousness :  "So  long  as  ye  both  shall 
live?" 

Luliani  lifted  her  head  and  said:  "No." 

Betty's  brother  took  Betty  away.  The  bishop  went 
to  fetch  some  wine.  Reginald  lifted  Luliani  in  his 
arms  to  a  sofa;  he  called  the  doctor  back. 

"I  can  do  nothing,  old  man,"  Warren  said  to  his 
friend,  after  examining  her  pulse,  her  heart,  which 
she  allowed  him  to  do  passively.  "The  blow  on  her 
head  was  one  shock,  the  jewel  business  another;  she 
is  weak,  unnerved;  nothing  alarming,  nothing  dan- 
gerous. To-morrow,  after  a  night's  sleep,  she  will  be 
quite  herself." 

"To-morrow,"  ejaculated  Luliani  faintly. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Reginald,  kneeling  beside  her, 

149 


all  the  buoyant  triumph  in  him  keyed  down  to  the 
bend  of  her  whim. 

"I'll  go  up-stairs,"  she  said  presently. 

He  went  with  her.  It  did  not  come  to  him  to  argue, 
to  question,  or  remonstrate.  There  was  a  something 
about  her  which  forbade  inquiry,  chiding,  or  expres- 
sion, quite  as  potently  as  the  sphinx  forbids  them.  It 
seemed  hopeless  as  to  the  present  time,  but  he  meant 
to  make  her  his  wife  to-morrow.  Yes,  unquestion- 
ably. So  he  helped  her  up  the  stairs,  pausing  just  a 
second  for  her  to  rest,  on  the  first  landing,  where  the 
balcony  was  built  out. 

She  shuddered. 

He  said:  "You  are  cold,  my  dearest?" 

.The  girl  answered:  "No,  I  am  warm,"  but  she  hur- 
ried on,  and  at  the  door  she  said:  "Good  night,"  in 
a  perfunctory  way. 

He  bent  and  kissed  her  lightly,  as  one  might  kiss 
a  child,  but  he  whispered  in  her  ear:  "We  are  half 
married,  you  know.  I  am  married  to  you,  Luliani, 
and  to-morrow  you  will  be  married  to  me?"  Then 
something  struck  at  his  heart,  and  he  added  with  an 
ungovernable  anxiety:  "Will  you  not?" 

"To-morrow,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile. 

"Kiss  me,"  he  demanded  roughly. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said  hopelessly;  and  then,  with  a 

150 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

little  cry  of  great  bitterness,  she  broke  from  him, 
darted  into  the  study,  shut  and  locked  the  door. 

Stevens  went  down-stairs.  He  was  a  man  at  once 
quick  and  slow.  Not  afraid  of  initiative,  but  not 
averse  either  to  following  another's  lead,  or  to  sha- 
king intimate  hands  with  any  chance  that  presented 
itself  to  him  as  apposite  to  his  own  plans  or  wishes. 
He  had  no  specified  lines  of  action  yet  formed  in  his 
mind  as  to  the  recovery  of  his  own  and  Betty  Austin's 
jewels,  which  he  would  not  for  a  moment  believe  to 
be  in  Luliani's  possession. 

Jaffray  was  clever,  and  Jaffray  had  assumed  that 
Luliani  was  guilty  of  the  theft.  Would  Jaffray  have 
ventured  to  assume  so  much  upon  his  information, 
whatever  that  was,  or  however  gotten,  had  the  sus- 
pect been  other  than  a  dependent  in  the  house? 

What  had  given  Jaffray  a  clue  ? 

He  could  have  seen  nothing,  otherwise  he  would  at 
once  have  proclaimed  a  clear  case. 

But  the  pendant  to  the  earring! 

Yes.  But  Jaffray  did  not  see  that  until  the  decisive 
step  of  bringing  Miss  de  Fontanges  down-stairs  and 
virtually  accusing  her  of  the  crime  had  been  taken. 

Should  he  employ  Jaffray,  or  should  he  go  in  for 
it  alone?  He  was  keen,  apt;  he  would  prefer  to 


T.HE  FLrAME  DANCER 

fathom  the  mystery  unaided,  but  the  question  was, 
could  he  do  this,  and  keep  near  Luliani,  his  wife? 

He  had  thought  this  just  as  he  reached  the  smoking- 
room,  which  was  in  the  basement  of  the  Austin  house. 
He  heard  a  good  deal  of  talking  going  on  in  there 
and  the  clink  of  glasses;  even  a  scrap  of  a  jolly  old 
song.  At  the  entrance  he  encountered  the  detective. 

Jafffay  had  perhaps  his  own  ideas  as  to  the  theft; 
in  any  event,  the  Austin  jewels  had  been  stolen  while 
he  was  supposed  to  have  them  in  keeping,  and,  not- 
withstanding Mr.  Stevens'  cheque  and  the  rest  of  it, 
the  man  from  headquarters  had  not  relinquished  either 
his  right  to,  or  his  intention  of,  unearthing  both  the 
jewels  and  the  mystery  surrounding  their  disappear- 
ance. 

There  was  something  very  like  resentment  or  jeal- 
ousy in  his  attitude  as  Stevens  appeared,  but  Stevens 
almost  instantaneously  disarmed  this  by  his  own  sud- 
den determination.  As  soon  as  he  met  Jaffray,  he 
recognized  that  Jaffray  was  the  one  man  whose  as- 
sistance he  should  probably  need.  Jaffray  felt  this 
atmosphere  of  geniality  in  the  other  man,  and  his  own 
personality  jumped  to  respond  to  it.  He  forgot  and 
forgave  the  setback  which  had  been  inflicted  upon  his 
professional  skill  and  merely  smiled  at  the  young 
clubman  in  a  good-humored  way.  He  felt  positive 

152 


THE  FL'AME   D'ANCER 

that  he  knew  who  had  taken  the  jewels;  he  was  rely- 
ing on  that  seventh  sense  of  his  which  had  never  yet 
played  him  false;  but  he  felt  as  positive  that  the  thief 
had  been  dominated  by  some  one  else,  and  that,  in 
discovering  the  real  actionary,  he  should  only  clear  a 
certain  woman  in  his  own  eyes,  if  not  in  the  eyes  of 
those  who  had  been  present  at  the  painful  occurrences 
of  a  memorable  night. 

This  is  what  Jaffray  would  have  spoken  aloud  had 
any  one  put  questions  to  him;  as  to  what  he  thought 
in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul,  that  is  something 
else.  He  named  no  name  even  to  himself — but  his 
anxiety  was  cruel  as  to  the  girl  he  had  so  suddenly; 
become  infatuated  with. 


153 


£HE  FL'AME  'D'ANCER 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  FIFTH   WHEEL   OF  THE   COACH 

4  4 1  REGRET  very  sincerely,  Mr.  Stevens—"  be- 
gan the  detective. 

"You  were  quite  right  from  your  standpoint 
and  with  your  premises,"  interrupted  Reginald.  "See 
here" — with  his  eyes  he  indicated  an  alcove  at  the 
quieter  end  of  the  room,  and  to  it  both  men  went  and 
sat  down.  A  servant  fetched  cigars,  but  both  de- 
clined anything  to  drink,  and  presently  they  were 
practically  alone. 

The  man  from  headquarters  did  not  speak;  he  was 
one  of  those  rare  chaps  who  know  exactly  when  to  be 
silent.  Stevens  was  another ;  but  it  was  his  play  in  the 
game,  and  he  went  on.  He  said :  "You  heard  what  I 
told  them  up-stairs  just  now?"  The  detective  nodded 
thoughtfully.  "I  had  rather  a  fancy  for  knocking  the 
bottom  out  of  this  robbery  mystery  all  by  myself,  but 
I  rather  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  that  I'll  join  forces 
with  you."  Jaffray  looked  keenly  at  his  companion, 
but  said  nothing.  Stevens  waited  a  moment;  their 
eyes  met. 

154 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Well?"  said  the  rich  man,  expectantly  and  some- 
what impatiently. 

Still  Jaffray  did  not  say  anything.  He  was  won- 
dering if  Reginald  Stevens  thought  that  he  could  be 
bought  over  to  hush  forever  on  the  subject  of  the 
jewels  and  any  connection  with  them  the  future  Mrs. 
Stevens  might  possibly  have;  wondering  if  Stevens 
fancied  that  he,  Jaffray,  would  ever  let  up  in  his  chase 
to  nail  the  person  who  had  been  so  exquisitely  clever 
as  to  have  found  out  that  the  detective  was  to  be 
absent  from  the  charge,  and  to  accomplish  in  that 
circumscribed  time  what  had  been  accomplished. 

Stevens  regarded  Jaffray,  and  the  truth  flashed 
upon  him.  "I  say!"  he  exclaimed,  while  his  lips 
thinned  and  he  struck  down  his  plumed  velvet  hat  on 
a  chair  next  his  with  vehemence.  "Don't  go  making 
mistakes,  man.  What  I  want  is  to  employ  you  as 
a  detective  on  this  case  in  which  my  wife,  my  future 
wife,  has  been  cruelly  involved.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"I  do." 

"Well,  well,  do  you  want  the  job?" 

"Yes,  I  do;  but,  frankly,  whether  employed  by  you 
or  not  I  should  pursue  it." 

"When  you  could,  you  mean,  between  your  other 
matters?" 

155 


THE  FL'AUE  DANCER 

"No.    I  should  give  up  everything  for  this." 

"You  would  ?  Well,  that's  what  I  want  to  pay  you 
to  do — give  up  everything  for  this.  Is  it  a  go  ?" 

"It  is." 

"Good."  Stevens  now  picked  up  his  hat  and  sat 
more  at  ease  in  his  seat.  "Have  you  any  theory  at 
short  range,  or  will  it  take  you  a  day  or  two  to  get 
one?" 

"I  have  one,"  was  the  detective's  reply. 

"Well?"  said  Stevens  deliberately.  If  he  was  going 
to  implicate  Luliani  he  wanted  him  to  fire  the  gun 
at  once  and  give  him  chance  to  parry. 

"Mr.  Stevens,"  said  the  detective,  "perhaps  I  was 
foolhardy  just  now  in  accepting  the  case.  There  are 
things  to  say,  to  be  talked  of,  perhaps  to  be  done, 
where  we  won't  tally.  If  I  can't  handle  the  job  my 
way  I  can't  handle  it  at  all." 

"Go  on,"  was  the  other  man's  sole  answer. 

Jaffray  glanced  quickly  at  him,  and  he  knew  he 
could  obey. 

"You  recall  meeting  Miss  de  Fontanges  on  the 
stairs  with  me  when  I  was  fetching  her  down?" 

"Yes." 

"I  had  had  a  short  conversation  alone  with  her 
of  course,  in  the  course  of  which  she  had  said,  in  reply 

156 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

to  my  question:   'Where  are  the  jewels?'   'I   don't 
know.'  " 

Stevens  breathed  hard,  a  deep  breath  of  joy.  Al- 
though he  had  been  sure,  he  was  now  surer.  He 
nodded  to  Jaffray. 

"I  believe,  notwithstanding  the  finding  of  the 
pendant  on  her  sleeve,  that  Miss  de  Fontanges  did  not 
know  where  the  jewels  were." 

Mr.  Stevens  remained  silent. 

"Now" — the  detective  paused  a  moment — "how  did 
Miss  de  Fontanges  come  by  that  red  scar  on  her 
cheek  and  temple?" 

"She  was  struck." 

"When?" 

"Early  this  evening/* 

"Where?"' 

"In  the  schoolroom." 

"You  saw  it?" 

"Yes." 

"By  whom?"  Jaffray  put  his  questions  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact, monotonous  fashion,  rather  disinterestedly; 
it  might  have  sounded  to  an  outsider. 

"A  woman." 

"The  weapon?"  inquired  the  detective,  whose  voice 
and  attitude  suffered  no  slightest  accession  as  his  in- 
formation increased. 

157 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"The  woman's  hand." 

"Who  was  the  woman — her  name?" 

"Miss  Wilmerding."  Reginald  Stevens  looked  off 
into  vacancy.  It  seemed  to  him  a  dastardly  thing  to 
name  any  woman  as  the  dealer  of  a  physical  blow,  save 
it  should  be  in  self-defense. 

Jaffray  gave  no  sign  of  surprise.  He  was  con- 
founded— but  he  loved  the  girl  who  had  struck  the 
blow. 

"When  you  came  up  the  stairs  to  see  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges  and  found  me  with  her,  did  you  meet  any  one 
on  the  way?" 

"No." 

"Going  down?" 

"Struh-La.    You  met  him  also.    No  one  else." 

"Yes.  Where  had  you  last  seen  Miss  de  Fontanges 
before  that  time?" 

"I  really  couldn't  tell  you."    Stevens  spoke  quietly. 

"It  doesn't  matter  very  much." 

"Any  more  questions?" 

"No,  Mr.  Stevens,  I  think  not.    Not  now." 

"Where  were  you  when  the  jewels  were  taken?" 
Reginald  asked  this  quickly;  he  had  tugging  at  his 
heart  the  suspicion  that  perhaps  Jaffray  had  seen  what 
he  had;  he  wished  to  be  sure.  He  was  bound  to  pro- 

158 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

tect  Liiliani   and  Betty,  and,   if  necessary,   her  in- 
amorato must  be  protected,  too. 

"Outside  of  the  house,  attending  to  an  outside  job," 
Jaffray  answered  promptly. 

"Ah!"  His  tone  was  one  of  relief  which  he  did 
not  see  fit  to  disguise.  "Now,  Jaffray,  you  admitted 
that  you  had  a  theory?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Stevens." 

"Do  you  think  you  know  who  took  Mrs.  Austin's 
and  my  jewels?" 

Jaffray  inclined  his  head. 

"Do  you  think  you  know  who  has  the  jewels?" 

"Yes — some  of  them,  anyway." 

"So  do  I.    Who?" 

Jaffray  said  nothing,  but  he  took  from  his  pocket 
and  unfolded  a  long  strip  of  paper,  on  which  was 
typed  a  complete  and  correct  list  of  all  Mrs.  Austin's 
guests  on  the  night  of  the  famous  costume  ball ;  also, 
a  list  of  all  the  servants  and  employees  of  the  house; 
all  the  florists,  caterers,  musicians,  decorators,  cos- 
turners  who  might  probably  have  access  to  the  house 
that  evening;  a  list,  likewise,  of  all  the  tradesmen, 
dressmakers,  and  the  like  who  might  be  likely  to  be 
admitted  to  the  house  on  that  particular  evening.  He 
handed  this  long  screed  to  Stevens,  as  he  said : 

"Have  you  any  theory,  Mr.  Stevens?" 

159 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"Yes,"  Reginald  Stevens  answered,  running  his  eyes 
down  the  columns  of  names. 

"Settled  on  a  person?" 

"Yes.  My  choice  is  the  fourteenth  from  the  top 
of  the  third  column,"  was  the  reply. 

Jaffray  looked  at  the  name  indicated ;  then  he  said : 
"He  is  a  dangerously  fascinating  man  to  most  women, 
and  I  dare  say  to  Mrs.  Austin." 

They  exchanged  glances.  Stevens  smiled  and  went 
on: 

"Now,  Jaffray,  if  you  could  restore  the  jewels,  could 
you  be  content  to  forget  the  fixing  of  the  responsi- 
bility, and  so  forth?  Could  you  stop  at  that  and  let 
the — er — culprit,  we  will  call  him,  go  unpunished  and 
unexposed  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  under  certain  circumstances,  I  could." 

"What  circumstances,  Jaffray?" 

"As  to  that,  I,  as  a  private  detective,  am  not  an 
officer  of  the  law.  That  means  that  I  should  be  ab- 
solved from  an  obligation  to  the  community  at 
large." 

"That's  the  case,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is." 

"Then,  if  that's  the  case,  Jaffray,  we  should  have 
no  difficulty  in  coming  to  terms.  I  do  not  want  to  be 
sensational.  I've  done  one  sensational  thing  to-night 

160 


THE  PL'AME  DANCER 

< — given  Mrs.  Austin  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars, 
to  be  retained  by  her  unless  I  succeed  in  restoring  her 
part  of  the  jewels.  You  know  my  financial  position. 
As  to  terms,  without  further  preface,  I  will  give  you 
a  half-million  in  cash  for  those  jewels." 

Schooled  as  he  was  to  repress  emotion,  the  detective 
could  not  hide  a  start  of  astonishment  at  this.  Half 
a  million!  A  fee  such  as  no  detective,  so  far  as  he 
knew,  had  ever  hoped  to  earn  in  a  single  case;  and 
this  man  could  pay  it.  That  was  as  certain  as  that 
they  sat  there  in  De  Forrest  Austin's  smoking-room, 
discussing  a  robbery  that  was  yet  hardly  an  hour  old. 
What  might  not  be  accomplished  with  a  half-million? 
At  that  moment  there  flashed  upon  the  man  who  still 
suffered  beneath  the  mask  of  the  detective  a  dream 
which  uplifted  his  soul  and  stimulated  him  to  unpar- 
alleled exertion. 

"Mr.  Stevens,"  he  said,  his  voice  vibrating  with 
emotion,  not  eagerness,  "I  accept  your  proposition, 
but  let  us  absolutely  understand  each  other.  The  one 
thing  you  want  is  the  restoration  of  those  jewels  with- 
out the  exposure  of  the  person  who  took  them." 

"That  is  it,  exactly,"  said  Stevens,  "and  I  want  to 
do  everything  in  my  power  to  help  you  in  your  inves- 
tigation." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Jaffray,  "that  is  my  own  position 

161 


T.HE  FLAME   DANCER 

also;  we  tally,  and  we  now  go  at  it.  But  even  with 
this  great  fee,  I  must  insist  upon  handling  the  job  in 
my  own  way." 

"Go  on,"  was  the  other's  slow  answer. 

"That  means,  Mr.  Stevens,  that  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  every  circumstance  which  gives  light  upon  the 
matter." 

"Yes." 

Jaffray  then  waited  a  moment,  but  Stevens  volun- 
teered no  information.  From  his  point  of  view,  his 
relations  to  the  detective  had  already  reached  a  crisis. 
He  had  undertaken  to  employ  him  for  the  main  pur- 
pose of  protecting  Betty  Austin  and  Luliani,  who  was, 
he  believed,  in  her  employer's  confidence.  He,  there- 
fore, had  no  intention  of  reporting  the  scene,  the  be- 
ginning of  which  he  had  witnessed  in  the  picture- 
gallery,  between  the  two  women,  as  the  one  lowered 
the  lights  to  further  the  whim  of  the  other. 

"I  quite  understand,"  said  Jaffray,  breaking  the  si- 
lence that  had  fallen  between  them,  "that  one  who  is 
not  a  detective  cannot  perceive  just  what  items  of 
information  would  help  to  solve  a  problem,  so  I  shall 
try  to  draw  from  you  what  I  need  by  questions.  Now, 
the  extraordinary  fact  is  that  these  jewels  were  taken 
from  a  woman  as  she  sat  in  a  chair,  with  hundreds 
of  her  friends  within  call,  and  manifestly  she  was  un- 

162 


conscious  of  what  occurred.  Does  that  suggest  any- 
thing to  you?" 

"Drugs,"  said  Stevens  succinctly. 

Jaffray  shook  his  head.  "It  suggests  something 
quite  different  to  me." 

Of  a  sudden  Stevens  started.  "By  Jove!"  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  breath,  "there  is  a  new  light!  There, 
indeed,  I  think  I  can  help  you." 

"Well?" 

"Why  not  hypnotism — mental  supremacy!  What- 
ever they  call  it!" 

Jaffray  nodded.  Stevens  continued :  "Jaffray,  with- 
out any  suspicion  that  this  person  is  guilty,  I  saw 
some  one,  now  in  this  house,  subjected  to  a  hypnotic 
spell  which  made  her  entirely  obedient  to  the  will  of 
the  hypnotist  a  few  weeks  only  ago." 

"Better  speak  plainly,  Mr.  Stevens.  Who  was  she, 
and  who  was  the  hypnotist?" 

"Struh-La,  and  little  Jean  Austin." 

Jaffray's  eyes  opened. 

"Not  Mrs.  Austin?"  he  asked. 

"No!"  Stevens  thereupon  described  the  scene  at 
Jean's  birthday-party  in  Doctor  Warren's  apartment. 

"That  is  very  good,"  said  Jaffray,  at  the  conclu- 
sion. "We  have,  then,  here  in  the  house,  the  hyp- 
notist who  could  have  contrived  the  matter,  who  could 

163 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

have  controlled  Mrs.  Austin  to  go  into  the  picture- 
gallery  and  remain  unconscious  for  from  five  to  ten 
minutes,  and  who  could  have  commanded  this  little 
girl  to  take  the  jewels,  and  who  could  have  taken 
them  from  the  little  girl  and  have  hidden  them  in 
the  folds  of  his  mandarin  costume.  Is  it  your  idea 
that  Struh-La  should  be  searched?" 

"I  am  not  so  sure  about  that,"  replied  Stevens; 
"for,  much  as  I  should  rejoice  in  seeing  this  thing 
fastened  where  it  belongs,  I  am  pretty  certain  that  if 
he  is  behind  the  matter,  as  we  both  seem  to  think,  he 
has  been  clever  enough  long  before  this  to  place  the 
jewels  where  they  cannot  readily  be  found.  At  all 
events,  if  we  were  to  subject  him  to  a  search  it  would 
put  him  upon  his  guard  in  such  a  way  as  to  prejudice 
further  investigation,  and" — he  hesitated — "our  bar- 
gain is  that  the  thief  shall  be  immune." 

"Can  you  throw  any  further  light  along  that  line  ?" 
Jaffray  asked,  mentally  noting  the  rebuff. 

"Yes,  and  here  I  come  to  this :  Just  about  the  time 
when  Mrs.  Austin  sat  in  the  picture-gallery,  I  met 
Jean  coming  from  that  room.  She  had  on  a  gown 
much  too  large  for  her,  and  she  held  it  from  her  feet, 
a  deep  fold  depending  from  her  hands.  You  see,  Jaf- 
ray,  no  end  of  things  could  have  been  carried  in  that 
fold.  I  had  not  thought  of  it  until  this  moment !  But 

164 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

more  singular  still  was  the  child's  manner.  Her  eyes 
were  staring.  She  choked  and  could  not  answer  when 
I  spoke  to  her.  She  seemed  to  be  wanting  to  do  one 
thing  but  compelled  to  do  another.  Do  you  see  the 
distinction?  She  wanted  to  answer  me.  It  seems, 
now  that  I  look  back  upon  it,  as  if  she  were  dominated 
by  some  force  utterly  foreign  to  both  of  us.  Any- 
how, she  sobbed  and  stumbled  up  the  stairs." 

"What  did  you  do?" 

"Nothing.  I  had  no  suspicion  at  the  moment  of 
anything  wrong.  I  thought  the  kid  had  been  re- 
proved for  coming  down  to  the  ball  when  she  ought  to 
have  been  in  bed,  and  dismissed  her  from  my  mind. 
It  never  would  have  occurred  to  me  again  but  for  this 
wretched  affair." 

Jaffray  was  much  more  deeply  impressed  and  more 
disturbed  by  what  Stevens  had  told  him  about  Struh- 
La's  occult  power  than  he  cared  to  confess.  Again 
the  man  within  him,  the  human  being  who  lived  and 
loved  as  other  men,  was  violently  at  war  with  his 
profession.  But  his  profession  was  at  work,  and  his 
thoughts  flew  quickly  to  a  conclusion,  and  that  was 
what  he  expressed  when  he  next  spoke. 

"You  have  thrown  an  invaluable  light  upon  the 
matter,  Mr.  Stevens,  and  I  now  know  how  to  go  to 
work.  There  is  no  need  of  disturbing  little  Jean. 

165 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Perhaps  she  took  the  jewels.  If  she  did,  she  has  not 
got  them  and  will  never  remember  what  happened. 
It  would  be  folly  to  put  Struh-La  on  his  guard.  On 
the  contrary,  let  him  go  freely " 

"But  you  will  keep  your  eyes  on  him?  The  jewels 
are  what  I  want,  not  the  man." 

Jaffray  said:  "I  shall  not  let  him  get  away  with 
the  plunder  without  every  effort  that  human  ingenu- 
ity can  devise  to  prevent  him.  He  should  be  allowed 
to  leave  this  house  to-night  totally  undisturbed." 

At  this  point  Stevens  arose,  as  if  the  conversation 
were  concluded.  He  said:  "You  will  report  to  me?" 

"Surely.  And,  Mr.  Stevens,  you  will  give  me  any 
further  information  that  comes  your  way,  I  suppose?" 
There  was  a  tang  of  doubt  in  the  detective's  question. 

Stevens  sat  down  again.  "Jaffray,"  he  said,  in  his 
concise  way,  "look  here.  My  jewels  and  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin's have  disappeared.  They  may  have  been  stolen; 
they  may  have  been  given !  Do  you  understand  now  ? 
There  are  some  people  who  may  have  stolen  them 
under  coercion,  or  free  will.  Miss  Wilmerding  is 
one."  Jaffray's  very  soul  winced  within  him.  "Lu- 
liani  de  Fontanges  is  a  second,  Jean  Austin  a  third, 
Struh-La  is  the  fourth.  There  is  a  fifth  element. 
Betty  may  have  given  them  to  the  man  she  may  care 
for  or  who  may  have  occultly  influenced  her.  There  is 

166 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

your  coach  with  its  five  wheels.  You  have  my  word 
for  half  a  million  for  the  return  of  the  gems,  but  the 
women,  not  any  one  of  them,  must  be  implicated,  to 
the  outside  world.  Not  a  dollar  of  my  earnings  goes 
to  cast  a  shadow  on  any  woman's  name  or  fame.  But 
the  jewels  I  will  have.  You  understand?  With  you, 
if  it  is  possible.  Without  you,  if  it  isn't." 

Jaffray,  with  a  suppressed  sigh  of  relief,  said: 

"Yes,  Mr.  Stevens." 


167 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   FLIGHT  IN  THE   NIGHT 

AS  soon  as  Reggie  got  home  from  Betty's  ball 
that  night  he  wrote  Luliani  a  letter,  to  be  de- 
livered the  next  day  at  eight,  called  his  house- 
keeper from  her  righteous  slumber  and  gave  his  orders 
regarding  the  home-coming  on  the  morrow  of  the 
future  Mrs.  Stevens;  got  out  of  his  Louis  XlVth 
costume  into  his  pajamas  and  tried  to  sleep.  It  was 
not  to  be  had.  After  turning  in  at  two-thirty,  he 
turned  out  at  six  and  instinctively  went  to  the  tele- 
phone. But  no,  not  quite  so  early;  that  would  hardly 
do.  So  he  waited  until  seven — he  remembered  that 
Jean  and  her  governess  always  rose  at  seven.  He  took 
down  the  receiver,  then  hung  it  up  again.  Seven 
o'clock!  Preposterous!  Perhaps  Luliani  was  not 
even  yet  awake.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  whole 
floor,  with  its  open  doors,  for  an  hour,  thinking — 
planning  joys,  surprises,  pleasures,  journeys,  homes, 
gaieties,  revels,  peace — for  her.  His  great  festal 
thought  was  that  this  day,  now  already  dawned,  would 
completely  make  her  his  wife:  render  all  the  sweet 

168 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

mysteries  in  her  not  the  less  mysterious  but  the  more 
and  more  enchantingly  to  be  puzzled  over.  He 
thought  of  her  as  the  one  woman  he  had  ever  seen 
who  most  exquisitely  rendered  the  fineness  and  lov- 
ableness  of  the  unfamiliar  into  the  warp  and  woof  of 
daily  life.  He  knew  that  no  matter  were  he  to  live 
with  Luliani  de  Fontanges  for  fifty  years,  she  would 
still  preserve  and  reserve  to  herself  the  riddle  and  the 
blessedness  of  the  unfamiliar;  that  she  never  could 
or  would  become  completely  an  open,  read,  and  fin- 
ished book  to  him;  that  there  would  forever  and  for- 
ever be  delicious,  unturned  pages  in  her  soul  he  could 
not  fathom,  and  depths  of  arbitrary,  tempting  igno- 
rance— or  was  it  wisdom? — which  he  could  surmise, 
attack,  surprise,  but  never  quite  lay  bare  to  plan  and 
rule.  In  his  thoughts  of  her,  and  for  her,  he.  let  the 
hour  run  away  with  him;  it  was  eight  o'clock.  Now 
he  would  ring  her  up.  He  did  so. 

"Luliani?" 

"No.    I'm  Jean." 

"Ask  Miss  de  Fontanges  to  come  to  the  phone, 
please,  Jean?" 

"Miss  de  Fontanges  isn't  here." 

"I'll  hold  the  wire  while  you  get  her." 

"She  isn't  in  the  house." 

"Where  is  she?" 

169 


XHE  FVAME  DAKCER 

"We  don't  know." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  don't  k^ow.  She's  gone.  Her  things  are  all 
here,  except  her  brown  hat  and  coat  and  gloves,  and 
there's  a  scrap  of  paper  on  my  desk,  I  mean  on  the 
floor  near  my  desk,  with  just  'San  Francisco'  written 
on  it."  He  heard  the  little  girl  sob. 

"Good-by,"  Reginald  Stevens  said  to  the  child,  and 
in  five  minutes  he  was  defying  law  and  order  by  the 
pace  of  his  machine  to  the  Austin's  house. 

When  he  came  away  from  there  he  had  the  scrap 
of  paper  in  his  possession.  He  had  stared  at  it  until 
his  eyes  refused  to  look  any  longer,  and  what  was 
to  be  made  of  it,  after  all?  "San  Francisco." 

When  he  reached  the  Austins'  Betty  was  still,  of 
course,  in  bed;  also  Bertha,  at  least  invisible.  The 
servants  were  stupid,  sleepy.  Forrie  Austin  and  the 
child  alone  were  alert,  keen,  determined  to  find  out, 
to  remember.  All  to  no  purpose.  An  hour  so  spent 
was  merely,  Stevens  argued,  just  so  much  lost  time. 
He  could  not  talk  with  De  Forrest  Austin  about  Lu- 
liani ;  De  Forrest  Austin  did  not  want  to  talk  to  him ; 
the  little  girl  kept  it  possible  by  her  chatter  and  actu- 
ally by  her  tears. 

"I  loved  her,"  she  sobbed.     "Pshaw!    Yes,  I  did. 

170 


THE  FLAME   DANCER} 


I  never  believed  much  in  love,  but  I  loved 
did  you,  father,  I  know!  and  so  does  Mr.  Stevens. 
I  don't  wonder  at  it.  She  was  the  sort  to  make  people 
love  her.  And  now  she's  gone.  Where?  Where? 
Where?"  Jean  stamped  up  and  down  angrily.  "I 
don't  think  much  of  either  of  you  men  and  your  love 
if  you  could  let  her  get  away  by  herself  like  this.  If 
I'd  been  awake  and  up  I'd  have  known  how  to  keep 
her." 

The  two  men  stood  still;  the  eyes  of  each  eagerly 
scrutinizing  every  inch  of  the  study  and  the  open- 
doored  rooms  giving  upon  it  for  some  hint  of  the 
fugitive.  There  was  nothing. 

Austin  had  heard  his  child,  and  he  now  came  up  to 
her  as  Stevens  went  toward  the  door.  He  put  his 
hand  upon  her  head. 

"Don't  touch  me  one  little  bit,"  she  cried  out  an- 
grily. "I  know!  I  know!  I  see  now!  It  is  because 
of  you,  being  a  married  man  and  telling  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges  you  loved  her  that's  made  her  run  away.  I 
know!" 

"Hush!"  the  father  said  as  he  turned  off. 

"I  won't,  either.  I  don't  blame  you  for  loving  her, 
but  you  might  have  kept  it  to  yourself  or  —  told  me!" 
Her  young  eyes  blazed  and  she  flounced  out  of  the 
room. 

171 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"Does  Jean  know  about  her  mother's  jewels  ?"  Ste- 
vens asked. 

"No,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  borrow  your  wire?" 

"Go  ahead!"  jerked  out  the  other  man,  a  bit  re- 
proachfully, as  he  quitted  the  room  and  shut  the  door. 

Reginald  called  Jaffray's  office  up  and  asked  to  have 
the  detective  meet  him  at  once  at  his  house.  Then  he 
went  down  and  got  in  the  machine. 


172 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XIII 
BERTHA'S    LUCK 

WHILE  Jean  Austin  had  been  speaking  to  her 
father    and    to    Reginald    Stevens,    Jean's 
mother  had  been  peacefully  sleeping,  despite 
lost   jewels,    strange   half-marriages,    and    all    other 
things  that  had  come  her  way.     Not  even  the  dead 
body  of  the  old  man,  her  father-in-law,  lying  out  in 
the  carriage-house  had  any  influence  toward  waking 
her  earlier  than  the  hour  she  had  named  to  her  maid, 
ten  o'clock.     Reginald's  cheque  lay  under  her  pillow. 
She  slept  soundly. 

Bertha,  in  the  neighboring  room,  had  not  slept 
soundly,  although  she  had  lain  very  still.  Myriads  of 
thoughts  had  crowded  through  this  girl's  brain  since 
the  moment  when  Stevens  had,  in  the  face  of  their 
world,  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  cling  to  him 
any  further.  She  had  been,  up  to  that  moment,  one 
of  those  who  drift,  slip,  skate  along  through  life, 
content  to  take,  with  open  hands,  it  is  true,  whatever 
good  things  any  one  offered  her,  and  sure  to  turn  a 
deaf  ear,  a  cold  shoulder,  and  a  handsome  back  to  all 

173 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

the  painful,  beseeching  things  of  which  the  world  is 
full.  She  had  never  been  too  definite  about  any- 
thing, rather  inconsequent — if  one  must  except  her 
love  for  Stevens,  and  that,  far  from  glorifying  or 
elevating  her,  had  seemed  to  degrade  her  unutterably. 
Possibly  she  had  only  regarded  him  as  a  means  to 
an  end,  a  man  to  be  married  because  his  bank-account 
could  not  be  attached  by  any  other  measures.  It 
would  have  been  quite  difficult  to  determine  just  at 
that  juncture  in  Bertha  Wilmerding's  career  whether 
she  was  one  of  those  women  without  a  heart,  or  one 
of  those  women  who  had  the  ability  to  submerge  her 
feelings  when  she  found  no  method  of  gratifying 
them.  She  lay  on  her  bed  revolving  many  things; 
she  seemed  calmer  than  usual ;  she  had  no  tears  in  her 
eyes  to  weep  over  the  loss  of  either  Reginald  or  the 
safe  and  luxurious  shelter  of  De  Forrest  Austin's 
home,  or,  rather,  of  his  wife's  home — because  Bertha 
knew  that  Bettty  would  succumb,  however  ungracious- 
ly, to  her  husband's  demand,  and  that  she  (Bertha)] 
could  not  stop  where  she  was  any  longer. 

She  heard  outside  the  sound  of  a  shrill  whistle. 
After  a  short  pause,  it  was  repeated  a  little  nearer. 
Morning  had  come,  and  the  postman  was  making-  his 
early  round.  Bertha  waited  until  she  was  certain  that 
he  had  been  at  the  Austin  house.  Then  she  got  up, 

174 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

put  on  a  loose  gown  of  pink  stuff  and  a  pair  of  satin- 
wadded  shoes,  and  softly  opened  her  door.  Appar- 
ently nobody  was  stirring  in  the  house.  Leaving  her 
door  ajar,  lest  the  sound  of  closing  it  should  attract 
attention,  she  slipped  swiftly  down  the  stairs  to  the 
vestibule,  where  on  a  tray  lay  the  letters  just  left  by 
the  postman.  She  took  them  all  up,  glancing  hurriedly 
at  the  addresses,  shuffled  them  together,  and  closed 
the  door.  Then  she  entered  the  library,  closing  that 
door  after  her  carefully.  In  five  minutes  she  emerged 
and  went  up  to  her  own  room  and  presently  tapped 
lightly  at  Betty's  connecting  door,  did  not  await  a  re- 
ply, went  in,  and  waked  her  hostess  with  a  push  on 
her  shoulder. 

"Good  morning,"  she  said,  with  a  kind  of  deter- 
mined cheerfulness.  "Let  me  come  in  here,  won't 
you,  and  ring  for  chocolate,  and  let's  talk;  thresh  it 
all  out?" 

"Oh,  dear,"  cried  Mrs.  Austin;  "what  time  is  it?" 

"Nine." 

"You  wretch!    I  told  Philine  ten." 

"Did  you?"  turning  on  the  steam  and  touching  the 
bell-button.  "Well,  I  made  bold  to  take  an  hour's 
start,  because  I'm  leaving  you  to-day,  and " 

"What  for?"  with  astonishment. 

"Your  charming  husband  ordered  me  out  last 

175 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

night,"  adding  to  the  maid  who  had  answered  the 
bell:  "Chocolate,  Philine,  please,  and  sweet  rolls  for 
me;  French  rolls  for  Mrs.  Austin."  The  servant  went 
away. 

"Why?"  now  gasped  Betty. 

!•• 

"Well,  because  I  struck  his  lady-love  a  smart  blow 
in  the  face." 

"Who's  his  lady-love?"  inquired  the  wife  inter- 
estedly. 

"Dear  little  Innocence,  doesn't  it  know?" 

Mrs.  Austin  shook  her  head. 

"The  governess." 

"And  you  struck  her?"  Betty  said,  with  a  certain 
disgust. 

"Yes,  I  struck  her.  Pshaw!  I  only  did  what  many, 
women  in  my  place  would  have  liked  to  do.  What's 
the  odds?" 

"Heavy  ones,  I  should  say."  Betty  turned  over 
and  yawned. 

"I've  got  to  go." 

"I  suppose  you  have.  You'd  hardly  care  to  stop, 
after  being  ordered  out,  as  you  express  it,  would 
you?" 

"Under  certain  circumstances,  I  might.  As  it  is,  I 
don't  care  a  jot." 

The  maid  entered  with  the  tray,  on  which  was  a 

176 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

pile  of  letters.     Bertha  laid  upon  them  an  almost 
greedy  and  a  certainly  rapid  hand. 

"I'll  sort  these." 

"Ten  for  madam,"  said  Philine.  "Four  for  mad- 
emoiselle." She  arranged  the  cups  and  plates  for  her 
mistress  and  then  left. 

"Yes;  ten? — let  me  see — ten  for  you  and  four  for 
me."  Bertha  carefully  held  her  own  four  apart  from 
Mrs.  Austin's  gaze. 

"I'm  too  tired  and  have  too  much  on  my  mind  to 
bother  with  correspondence  this  morning,"  said  the 
hostess,  as  she  threw  her  mail  one  side. 

Bertha  had  walked  away  from  the  bed  to  a  win- 
dow and  was  staring  at  all  her  letters. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  dubiously,  "who  this  can  be 
from." 

"Open  it  and  find  out,"  suggested  Betty,  with  a 
slight  laugh.  "Best  way  in  these  cases." 

"I  suppose  so.  Somehow,  I  hate  to  open  it.  It 
seems  as  if  it  contained  bad  news." 

"Nonsense,"  cried  the  other  woman.  "Give  it  to 
me;  I'll  cut  it  for  you."  But  as  Bertha  made  no 
motion  toward  accepting  the  offer,  Bettty  added: 
"Where's  it  postmarked  from?" 

"I — don't  know."  She  was  perhaps  making  up 
her  mind  whether  to  tell  Betty  where  it  was  posted 

177 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

from.  Then  she  looked  at  the  envelope  scrutinizingly, 
and  said:  "Oh,  it's  from  San  Francisco." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  open  the  thing,  Bertha;  you 
make  me  fairly  nervous." 

"I'm  nervous,  too,"  returned  Miss  Wilmerding  in 
a  steady  voice,  cutting  open  the  envelope,  as  Betty 
watched  her,  for  she  did  watch  her  friend,  ill-bred  as 
she  knew  it  to  be.  Bertha's  expression  altered  from 
curiosity  to  interest,  from  interest  and  a  certain  re- 
lief to  surprise,  condolence,  and  a  species  of  satis- 
faction. 

"Well?"  exclaimed  Betty. 

"A  family  affair,"  replied  the  girl  deliberately. 
"It's  about  that  uncle  of  mine,  who  died  some  months 
ago  in  California." 

"Oh!"  Betty  now  sighed;  "that  reminds  me  of  my 
poor  father-in-law!  Goodness  me!  Jaffray  will  be 
here  soon  to — to " 

"Finish  up  his  job?"  concluded  the  brunette  girl 
good-humoredly. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed?"    Trying  to  be  shocked. 

"No.  I  merely  put  your  thought  into  words.  Why 
not?" 

"Well,  what  about  the  uncle?" 

"Why,  not  much.     This  is  from  his  lawyers." 

178 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Well,  he  left  you  something,  if  I  remember  rightly. 
A  thousand  dollars,  wasn't  it?" 

Bertha  sat  on  the  arm  of  a  Morris  chair  and  swung 
her  foot  negligently  back  and  forth.  There  was  an 
odd  gleam  in  her  eyes. 

"He  did.  I  haven't  forgotten  how  quickly  it  went, 
have  you?"  She  laughed. 

"I  remember  feeling  cross  because  he  didn't  leave 
you  more,"  was  Betty's  answer. 

"Well,  he  left  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  to  an  aunt 
I  never  saw.  It  seems  that  there  was  a  clause  in  the 
will  making  me  a" — Bertha  consulted  her  letter — "a 
residuary  legatee,  I  think  it  is.  Anyhow,  it  means  that 
in  the  event  of  my  aunt's  death  before  my  marriage, 
the  whole  fortune  comes  to  me." 

"And  your  aunt?"  cried  Betty. 

"Has  had  the  good  taste  to  die." 

"How  much  ?"  sitting  up  straight.  "How  provoking 
you  are." 

"Three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  they  say." 

"And  you  come  in  for  all  of  it?" 

"The  whole  of  it." 

"Bertha!"  The  chocolate  cup  came  down  on  the 
tray.  Bertha  laughed  a  bit.  "Not  really?" 

Bertha  nodded  contentedly.     "Funny,  isn't  it,"  she 

179 


FL'AME  D'ANCER 

went  on,  "to  lose  Reggie  last  night  and  fall  heir  to 
a  small  fortune  this  morning." 

"Yes.     I'm  glad  for  you " 

"Thank  you,"  interrupted  Miss  Wilmerding  appre- 
ciatively. 

"But,"  continued  Mrs.  Austin,  "I  do  wish  Reggie 
had  behaved  better!" 

Bertha  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  she  replied:  "I 
should  really  think,  dear,  you'd  be  obliged  to  him  for 
taking  Miss  What's-her-name,  the  governess,  out  of 
your  husband's  reach." 

"Now,  sweetheart,"  laughed  the  married  woman, 
"don't  be  nasty.  Forrie  may  have  his  little  penchants 
if  he  wants  to.  Miss  de  Fontanges  is  probably  the 
safest  of  the  lot,  because  she  is  a  nice  girl.  I  know 
women,  dear,  quite  well;  and  poor  Forrie  knows 
where  the  money  comes  from."  She  laughed  as  she 
poured  herself  another  cup  of  chocolate. 

"'Nice  girl!'"  repeated  Bertha  in  a  whimsical, 
mocking  way.  "  'Nice  girl !'  who  stole  and  lied " 

"Nonsense !  Luliani  de  Fontanges  never  took  them. 
It  may  have  looked  so,  but "  Betty  Austin  hesi- 
tated and  her  cheeks  flushed. 

"Who  did,  then?"  asked  the  other  sharply,  eying 
her. 

"Give  it  up." 

180 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"But  the  earring  pendant?" 

"Put  there  by  whoever  did  take  them,"  Betty  said 
glibly. 

"You're  cool  about  it,  I  must  say,  anyway.  If  I'd 
lost  them  I'd  not  have  slept  a  wink,  and  I  wouldn't 
laugh  for  a  whole  year." 

"Pshaw!  Yes,  you  would,  if  you  were  I.  In  the 
first  place,  I  can  afford  to  lose  them " 

"True,"  interposed  the  girl  on  the  arm  of  the 
Morris  chair. 

"Second,  I  may  get  them  back;  third,  I  have  Regi- 
nald Stevens'  cheque,  which  I  didn't  care  about  taking 
in  the  least,  and  only  did  take  because  I  realized,  in 
even  that  horrid  first  moment,  what  that  girl  under 
suspicion  was — to  him.  I  couldn't  have  felt  meanly 
to  any  man  with  that  look  on  his  face." 

"What  look?"  asked  Bertha  Wilmerding. 

"The  look  of  a  real  love.  Ah — there's  one  man 

in  the  world  who  might "  Betty  stopped  short 

again. 

Bertha  stared,  and  said:  "Bah!" 

Betty  smiled.  "Dearie,  we'd  any  of  us,  the  shal- 
lowest of  the  whole  lot,  give  our  souls  to  see  that 
look  for  us  on  the  face  of  a  strong  man.  I'm  nothing 
but  a  butterfly,  hovering  around  the  candles  of  pleas- 
ure, but  I  do  know  that  there's  a  bigger  light  than 

181 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

candle  flame;  I  do  know  there  is  a  sun  in  the  sky, 
even  if  I  shut  it  out  and  prefer  to  live  by  electric 
bulbs  instead." 

"How  eloquent!"  satirically. 

"Thanks,"  succinctly. 

"Why  on  earth  did  she  say  *no?  in  the  middle  of 
that  excruciatingly  funny  marriage  ceremony,  I  won- 
der?" remarked  Miss  Wilmerding,  ruminatingly. 

"Heaven  knows!"  was  the  rejoinder.  "One  of  us 
would  never  have  been  such  an  idiot,  would  we?" 
Bertha  laughed.  "I  tell  you,  Bertha,  such  girls  as 
the  governess  know  their  power,  and  one  of  the  causes 
of  their  power,  I  begin  to  believe,  is,  that  they  allow 
the  men  a  chance  to  run  after  them.  We  don't." 

"The  men  won't  do  it — unless  we  have  fortunes." 

"We  never  give  them  an  opportunity.  We  are  born, 
brought  up,  brought  out,  trotted  about  with  marriage 
as  the  sole  end  in  view." 

"Well,"  querulously,  "what  other  end  is  there, 
pray?" 

Betty  laughed.  "Ask  Miss  de  Fontanges ;  possibly 
she  knows  better  than  I  do." 

Bertha  sat  still  a  minute ;  then  she  said :  "When  are 
you  going  to  tell  Forrie  about  his  father?" 

"Goodness  me!     I  forgot  again.     Do  tell  Philine 

182 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

to  ring  Jaffray  up  for  me,  won't  you!  6666  Bryant, 
that's  a  dear." 

When  Bertha  came  into  the  room  again,  she  said : 
"I  suppose  you'll  have  to  go  into  mourning?" 

"Yes,  certainly;  three  months,  at  least.  It's  too 
provoking." 

"Yes,  just  when  one  is  wanting  to  go  about  a  bit." 

"One  can  always  go  abroad  and  do  as  one  likes 
and  be  amused  on  the  Continent;  not  in  England,  of 
course." 

"Shall  you  go?"  Miss  Wilmerding  inquired. 

"I  must  go  somewhere.  I  can't  stop  here.  One 
never  does  after  a  family  affliction." 

"No." 

"Yes,  I'll  sail  next  week.  What  is  it,  Philine?"  as 
the  maid  entered. 

"I  cannot  get  Mr.  Jaffray,  madam;  he  is  not  in." 

"Very  well;  tell  them  to  send  him  the  moment  he 
returns." 

"Yes,  madam."     Philine  went  away. 

"I  shall  send  Jean  and  her  governess — oh,  no,  what 
am  I  talking  about — Miss  de  Fontanges  is  to  finish 
being-  married  to  your  late  fiance  to-day,  isn't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"How  provoking.  I  had  forgotten  she  was  so 
necessary  to  me  and  to  Jean.  Now  I  shall  have  to 

183 


THE  FLrAME  D'ANCER 

take  Jean,  which,  after  all,  would  be  simply  impossi- 
ble; she  is  so  observant,  and  an  observant  child  on 
the  Continent  is  a  bore." 

"Leave  her  with  her  father,"  suggested  Miss  Wil- 
merding. 

"Forrie'll  have  to  go  with  me;  it's  his  father  who 
died,  you  know.  Of  course  we  can  choose  different 
places  once  we're  over  there.  No,  I'll  send  Jean  down 
on  Long  Island,  as  I  promised  you,"  she  laughed, 
"with  some  one  I'll  find." 

"Yes."  Bertha  seemed  lost  in  reflection.  Then  she 
brightened  up  and  spoke.  "I  shall  have  to  go  to  San 
Francisco." 

"'San  Francisco!'"  cried  the  other  woman  in  a 
stupefied  way.  "Yes,  of  course,  I  suppose  you  will. 
Shall  you  put  on  mourning?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  quietly  and  as  if  she  had 
thought  it  out. 

"Will  your  mother  have  to  go,  too?" 

"Impossible.  She  is  too  much  of  an  invalid  for  any 
such  journey." 

"To  be  sure.    You've  never  been  West,  have  you  ?" 

"No,  have  you?" 

"No.  I  say!"  Mrs.  Austin's  eyes  sparkled. 
"What's  the  matter  with  our  going  out  there  with 
our  grief  instead  of  to  Europe  ?" 

184 


THE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 

Bertfia  nodded  thoughtfully.  "Mr.  Austin  might 
not  care  to  go  where  I  am  going." 

"Nonsense!    We  shall  go  to  San  Francisco." 

"You  had  better  not  tell  him  that  I  am  going  there, 
then." 

"Don't  be  a  little  fool.  Why,  you  don't  suppose 
I'm  going  to  lose  sight  of  you  now,  do  you,  Bertha? 
You're  most  interesting  now,  with  Reggie  for  a  back- 
ground and  your  uncle's  little  fortune  to  play  with. 
Forrie  can't  rob  me  of  my  friends;  I  don't  interfere 
with  his." 

"Come  on!"  ejaculated  Miss  Wilmerding  jocularly. 
"Just  now  I  am  going  to  pack.  I've  got  to  leave  here 
as  soon  as  I  can." 

"For  San  Francisco?" 

"Oh,  I'll  run  up  to  Saratoga  and  see  mother  first 
for  a  couple  of  days ;  but  I'm  principally  leaving  you 
because  your  husband  told  me  to  go." 

"I  see,  yes;  that  blow;  you'd  better  get  away.  It 
might  be  awkward  for  you  to  meet  the  future  Mrs. 
Reggie  on  the  staircase,  say,  or  on " 

Jean  came  in  then  quite  unceremoniously;  she  had 
heard  her  mother's  last  remark,  and  she  said,  in  her 
clear  treble  voice:  "You'll  not  meet  her  anywhere; 
she's  gone." 


THE  FL"AME  DANCER 

"Gone?  What  do  you  mean,  Jean?"  asked  the 
mother. 

"She's  gone  away.  She  took  nothing  but  her  brown 
costume  and  hat  and  veil  and  gloves " 

"And  the  famous  jewels,  my  dear!"  Bertha 
laughed  nervously. 

"You  hush!  You  are  the  devil!  Yes,  you  are;  I 
hate  you!  She  did  not  take  the  jewels.  Philine  has 
told  me  all  about  it." 

"Does  your  father  know?"  asked  the  mother  of  her 
daughter. 

"Yes.  Mr.  Stevens  knows,  too.  He  was  here,  and 
he's  gone  away  to  meet  Mr.  Jaffray." 

"Didn't  she  leave  any  word?"  asked  Mrs.  Austin., 

"Two  words  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Mr.  Stevens  has 
them." 

"What  were  they?"  asked  Miss  Wilmerding 
sharply. 

"San  Francisco,"  said  the  child  clearly. 

There  was  a  queer  pause;  neither  woman  could 
have  told  then  and  there  why  she  held  her  breath  for 
that  odd  moment,  although  perhaps  one  of  them 
would  have  been  able  to  do  so. 

"San  Francisco?"  reiterated  Betty. 

"A  good  safe  spot,  I  suppose,  my  dear,  to  make  off 
to  with  the  jewels,"  exclaimed  Bertha ;  "for,  of  course, 

186 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

her  flight  fixes  the  theft  unquestionably  upon  this 
unhappy  girl." 

"  'Unhappy,'  fiddlesticks!"  muttered  little  Jean.  "I 
fancy  Mr.  Stevens  and  Mr.  Jaffray  will  be  able  to 
find  her  and  the  real  thief,  too." 

"Jean,  hush." 

"Probably  she  isn't  going  to  San  Francisco  at  all," 
said  Bertha.  "Most  likely  it's  only  a  thief's  way  of 
misleading  people." 

"You!"  Jean  rushed  over  to  Bertha  and  seized  her 
with  vehemence.  "You  call  my  Miss  de  Fontanges 
a  thief  just  once  more  and  I'll  pound  you." 

"Jean!"  cried  her  distressed  mother,  through  an 
amused  smile,  however. 

"I  will,"  asseverated  the  child.  "She  struck  Miss 
'de  Fontanges;  I'll  strike  her.  As  father  said,  you'd 
better  pack  your  trunks  and  go.  I'll  give  you  all  the 
spending-money  I  have  if  you  will." 

Miss  Wilmerding  retreated  to  her  room,  laughing, 
got  out  her  treasures,  her  clothes,  and  packed  her 
trunks. 

"It's  too  trying!"  murmured  Mrs.  Austin. 

"What?"  queried  the  child. 

"Give  me  a  hand-glass."  Jean  gave  it.  "Horrors! 
I  sha'n't  have  a  square  inch  of  good  complexion  left, 
and,  there!  there  are  two  lines  at  the  outside  corners 

187 


THE  FL'AME  V'ANCER  s 

of  my  eyes.  Hand  me  the  cola  cream,  dear."  She 
administered  the  soothing  stuff  liberally.  "Now,  I 
do  hope  I'll  be  permitted  to  be  quiet,  and  get  those 
wrinkles  smoothed  out." 

"Mother."  Jean  drew  near  to  the  bed  and  regarded 
her  parent. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  peevishly. 

"Peters,  the  head  groom,  who  always  is  wanting  to 
go  to  mass,  you  know?" 

"Yes,  yes;  let  him  go  to  mass  or  anywhere  else!" 

"He  doesn't  want  to  go  to-day,  but  he  told  Philine 
at  breakfast  this  morning — you  know  he's  gone  on 
Philine  completely — that  there  was  a  strange,  terrible 
something  out  in  the  carriage-house.  Don't  you 
think  father  ought  to  see  to  it,  mother?  What  can 
it  be?" 

"Merciful  heavens,  it's  your  grandfather!  Now! 
Are  you  satisfied?"  asked  the  mother  angrily.  "He 
came  last  night,  but,  having  this  ball  on,  I  had  to  do 
something  with  him!" 

Jean  stood  still. 

"Don't  stand  and  stare  at  me  like  that." 

"Shall  I  go  and  tell  father?"  the  little  girl  asked. 

"No,  you  won't.  Never  do  you  mention  the  sub- 
ject to  your  father  as  long  as  you  live." 

"Is  my  grandfather  crazy,  or  what?" 

188 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

"No,"  brutally,  "he's  dead." 
"Oh!"  Jean  cried  and  sobbed.    "Oh!" 
"Do  be  quiet;  you  make  my  head  ache.     As  if  I 
hadn't  enough  to  try  me  without  your  nonsense.     Go 
away.    I  declare!  what  I've  gone  through  in  the  past 
twenty-four  hours  would  provoke  a  saint." 

The  little  girl  went  away  quite  by  herself  to  look 
out  of  the  rear  windows. 

She  saw  a  man  in  an  Inverness  and  with  a  dark- 
red  beard,  below;  he  was  with  four  other  men  and 
he  shut  the  stable-yard  doors  carefully  after  him; 
they  went  into  the  carriage-house,  and  presently  they 
came  out  carrying  a  large  packing-box.  Jean  knew 
that  her  grandfather  was  inside  of  it.  They  bore  it 
across  the  courtyard  and  into  the  house.  Jaffray  had 
assured  himself  that  Mr.  Austin  had  gone  to  his  club 
before  embarking  on  the  remainder  of  his  job. 

The  child  heard  the  heavy,  measured  tread  of  five 
men  with  their  burden  crawling  up  the  private  stair- 
case. She  knew  that  must  be  their  route.  She  ran 
to  the  schoolroom,  and  over  to  the  door  at  the  far 
end  which  gave  on  this  staircase.  She  opened  it. 
{They  had  almost  reached  it,  but  the  sudden  accession 
o'f  light  on  their  path  made  them  stop.  As  there  was 
fco  sound  Jaffray  signaled  them  to  go  on,  and  in  an- 

189 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

other  moment  they  and  their  burden  were  in  face  of 
the  little  girl. 

The  man  with  the  red  beard  was  more  taken  aback 
than  perhaps  he  had  ever  been  in  his  whole  life,  at 
sight  of  this  little  girl.  He  had  thought  that  all  his 
arrangements,  made  with  Mrs.  Austin's  assent  and 
knowledge,  were  secure  from  interruption  or  inspec- 
tion other  than  the  inevitable  gossip  and  truth-telling 
of  servants — they  being  factors  not  to  be  controlled 
by  either  mistresses,  masters,  detectives,  or  any  one 
else.  But  this  child ! 

The  procession  halted. 

It  was  Jean  who  spoke. 

"Bring  him  in  here,'"  she  said.  "I  know;  he  is  my 
grandfather.  Put  him  down  on  there,"  she  indicated 
the  square  schoolroom  piano.  "If  I  had  known  he 
arrived  last  night  I  would  have  had  him  taken  into 
my  own  room."  She  was  tearless  and  fearless,  and 
Jaffray  quite  worshiped  her  as  he  stood  there  in  his 
disguise,  carrying  out  her  mother's  bidding. 

They  obeyed  her  and  left  her  beside  the  coffin, 
which  they  had  unboxed. 


190 


THE  FLAME   D'ANCER 


CHAPTER  XIV 
JAFFRAY'S  CONFLICT 

OF  all  the  persons  concerned  in  the  Austin  ball 
drama,  the  one  who  slept  least  was  the  de- 
tective. Hitherto,  Jaffray  had  been  undeviat- 
ing  and  exclusive  in  his  devotion  to  the  exposure  of 
the  criminal.  Here  he  was  committed  to  a  bargain 
that  did  violence  to  his  sense  of  right,  for  did  it  not 
command  him  to  shield  the  thief? 

This  in  itself  would  have  disturbed  his  tranquillity, 
but  Jaffray's  situation  was  far  worse  than  that,  and 
in  his  solitude  he  blinked  no  fact.  First  and  foremost 
was  his  sudden,  overmastering  love  for  Bertha  Wil- 
merding,  a  woman  to  whom  he  never  had  had  a  for- 
mal introduction.  He  loved  this  woman,  superficially 
hopeless  though  it  was.  But  was  it  hopeless?  If  he 
could  gain  that  half-million  offered  by  Stevens,  might 
he  not  seek  and  win  her?  Surely. 

Jaffray  repeated  the  word  "Surely"  aloud,  and 
smiled  as  he  realized  the  strange  complication  in 
which  he  was  a  central  figure.  For  he  believed  that 
Bertha  Wilmerding  was  guiltily  implicated  in  the 

191 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

theft.  Did  he,  in  that  case,  then,  want  her?  Reason 
said  no,  but  his  tugging  heart  clung  to  that  pungent, 
unmistakable  something  that  had  come  into  his  life 
before  he  had  occasion  to  think  Bertha  Wilmerding 
other  than  a  true  and  womanly  woman. 

Why  did  he  think  otherwise  now? 

To  understand  this  question  and  the  tremendous 
significance  it  had  for  Jaffray,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  he  had  so  often  jumped  to  correct  conclusions 
that  now  his  subconscious  trust  in  his  first  impressions 
was  difficult  to  overcome. 

It  was  impossible  for  him,  as  a  detective,  to  forget 
the  feeling  with  which  he  had  seen  Bertha  Wilmer- 
ding and  Struh-La  enter  the  balcony  on  the  stairway. 
As  soon  as  he  knew  that  there  had  been  a  robbery, 
his  mind  had  flown  to  that  episode.  If  Bertha  Wil- 
merding had  been  nothing  to  him  he  would  have  di- 
rected his  investigation  straight  to  her  from  the  word 
go.  Could  he  have  told  you  why  her  meeting  with 
the  Oriental  then  and  there  impressed  him  as  sug- 
gestive of  guilt?  Perhaps  not,  but  it  did  so.  It  was 
like  a  death-blow  struck  at  his  heart,  but  it  was  there, 
and  however  he  might  deal  with  it  in  talking  with 
others,  he  could  not  minimize  its  significance  to  him- 
self. 

Jaffray,  the  man,  fought  against  the  impressions  of 

192 


THE  FL'AME  VASTER 

Jaffray,  the  detective.  Despite  a  cynical  conviction 
that  all  human  beings  are  capable  of  crime,  given  the 
right  incentive,  he  clung  to  the  idol  that  had  been  so 
swiftly  formed  in  his  heart,  and  stubbornly  told  him- 
self that  Bertha  Wilmerding  was  the  woman  he 
wanted  for  a  wife.  For  that  very  reason  she  must 
be  worthy  of  him.  If  she  had  taken  the  jewels,  there 
must  have  been  some  powerful  incentive  which,  if 
understood,  would  exculpate  her  completely.  That 
exculpation  must  be  his  quest  quite  as  much  as  the 
jewels  themselves.  Therefore,  how  singularly  for- 
tunate it  was  that  suspicion  pointed  with  equal  force 
in  other  directions!  He  must  win  that  half-million. 
He  must  get  the  jewels  away  from  Bertha  Wilmer- 
ding, granting  that  she  had  taken  them,  and  from 
her  accomplice,  for  it  was  in  that  light  that  he  viewed 
Struh-La.  Meantime,  he  must  protect  her,  and,  to 
that  end,  win  her. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "I  don't  know 
what  to  think  of  that  governess.  There  is  something 
strange  there,  but  all  I  can  say  now  is  that  it  is  rare 
good  luck  that  the  man  who  loves  her  evidently  fears 
that  she  is  involved.  For  while  I  am  working  out  my 
own  end  I'.can  use  Miss  de  Fontanges  as  a  foil,  and, 
if  she  is  innocent,  nothing  I  do  can  react  against  her.'* 

It  was  in  this  frame  of  mind  that  Jaffray  went  early 

193 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

to  the  Austin  house  to  conclude  the  gruesome  outside 
job  which  Betty  had  set  him.  As  soon  as  the  coffin 
containing  the  body  of  De  Forrest  Austin's  father  had 
been  placed  in  the  house,  Jaffray  returned  to  his  own 
quarters  and  there  found  the  message  from  Stevens. 
He  responded  to  it  at  once,  sending  word  by  telephone 
that  he  was  on  the  way.  Shortly,  therefore,  he  was  in 
the  library  of  the  beautiful  house  in  which  Reginald 
had  hoped  by  this  hour  to  have  installed  Luliani  de 
Fontanges  as  his  wife. 

Jaffray,  as  he  entered,  said: 

"Congratulations,  Mr.  Stevens.  I  suppose  the  cere- 
mony has  been  concluded."  He  was  ceremonious  and 
smiling. 

"No.  Miss  de  Fontanges  has  left  the  Austins  with- 
out their  knowledge.  Brown  costume,  hat,  coat,  veil, 
and  bag,  and  nothing  else." 

Jaffray  was  startled;  he  was  pleased;  the  flight  of 
Miss  de  Fontanges  must  keep  suspicion  upon  her  and 
'divert  its  falling  upon  Miss  Wilmerding. 

"Who  saw  her  go?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"No  one.  I  have  questioned  every  servant  in  the 
house.  All  slept  heavily,  of  course,  after  the  func- 
tion last  night." 

"That  little  girl?" 

"Heartbroken,  but  knows  nothing." 

194 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"No  note?    No  word?" 

"This."  He  held  up  the  bit  of  paper  before  Jaf- 
f ray's  eyes  with  the  words  "San  Francisco"  on  it;  he 
did  not  want  any  one  to  touch  it  but  himself.  The 
detective  understood  this;  he  was  fine  and  subtle.  He 
did  not  offer  to  take  it,  but  he  said : 

"Hold  it  smoothly  out,  please,  steadily  as  you  can." 

Stevens  did  so. 

"It's  a  scrap  of  paper  torn  from  a  letter,  I  should 
say.  You  see  the  pen  and  ink  scratches  on  this  edge?) 
parts  of  other  words?" 

"Yes." 

"Written  in  haste;  the  hand  has  not  trembled,  but 
neither  has  it  moved  freely;  it's  written  under  sur- 
yeillance.  Some  one  has  been  with  her  whom  she 
feared  when  she  wrote  it.  Where  was  it  found?" 

"In  the  schoolroom,  near  Jean's  desk." 

"By  whom?" 

"Jean." 

"Have  you  seen  Jean?" 

"Yes." 

The  detective  scrutinized  the  bit  of  paper.  "She 
has,  after  all,  perhaps  been  alone;  yes,  she  has  been 
alone;  she  has  intended  to  write  more.  See  here  the 
tracing  of  a  capital  *M'?  She  has  tried  to." 

"Yes,  I  do  see  it." 

195 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"Then  she  has  been  broken  in  upon,"  the  man  from 
headquarters  went  on.  "I  tell  you,  Mr.  Stevens,  the 
person  or  persons  we're  after  are  damned  clever,  and 
they  have  power!  power  of  some  sort  over  Miss  de 
Fontanges." 

Stevens  said:  "I  intend  to  leave  for  San  Francisco 
at  once." 

"Wait  three  hours.  I'll  put  ten  men  on  within  ten 
minutes,  to  find  out,  if  they  can,  if  she  really  has  left 
New  York,  and  then  start  if  they  are  unsuccessful." 

"You?" 

"I'm  going  to  see  some  of  the  present  inmates  of 
the  Austin  place." 

"What  shall  I  do  during  your  three  hours?"  For 
the  first  time  since  he  had  been  a. man,  Stevens  asked 
some  one  what  he  should  do.  He  was  a  bit  dazed; 
the  love  pf  her  was  so  devouring;  terror,  solicitude 
for  her  loneliness,  her  probable  danger  so  keen  and 
poignant  that  he  was  unmanned. 

The  detective  said:  "Go  with  Jermyn;  Jermyn  is 
my  right-hand  man." 

"Ring  him  up,  then,"  Reggie  said  sharply. 


196 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XV 

DETECTIVE   AND   LOVER 

WHEN  Jaffray  arrived  at  Austin's  house,  an 
express  wagon  stood  before  it,  into  which 
trunks  were  being  piled.  His  sharp  eyes 
observed  the  initials  B.  W.  on  the  trunks,  and  he 
wondered  with  a  throb  of  apprehension.  It  was  evi- 
dent enough  that  Bertha  Wilmerding  was  about  to  go 
away,  and  he  sent  his  name  to  her  instead  of  to  Mrs. 
Austin  when  the  butler  admitted  him.  The  detective 
was  shown  into  the  library  on  the  ground  floor.  The 
room  was  pervaded  by  the  faint,  subtle  perfume  which 
Jaffray  already  associated  with  this  woman's  pres- 
ence— he  knew  Miss  Wilmerding  had  been  there.  On 
the  heels  of  this  came  a  sense  of  amusement  at  him- 
self. 

"On  my  word,"  his  thoughts  ran,  "I  am  as  bad  as 
any  schoolboy.  Whatever  I  do  I  find  her,  real  or  im- 
plied, in  my  way." 

He  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  table.  His  eyes 
lighted  on  the  waste-paper  basket,  and  on  top  was 
an  envelope  addressed  to  her.  This  time  it  was  the 

197 


THE  FLAME   D'ANCER 

impulse  of  the  lover,  not  the  sagacity  of  the  detective, 
that  made  him  stoop  and  pick  up  that  envelope.  It 
was  empty,  but  it  bore  her  name,  and,  with  full  recog- 
nition of  the  folly,  he  started  to  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
His  eye  was  attracted  by  the  postmark,  "San  Fran- 
cisco." He  held  it  closer.  But  only  for  an  instant, 
for  he  heard  her  step.  He  hastily  put  the  bit  of  pa- 
per into  his  pocket  and  greeted  Miss  Wilmerding. 
He  was  a  very  attractive  man,  and  Bertha  recalled 
perfectly,  as  she  beheld  him,  the  delightful  way  in 
which  he  had  emphasized  pronouns  and  used  his  eyes 
only  last  night  for  her  benefit,  but  yet  she  ,was 
startled  and  a  bit  defiant  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"Miss  Wilmerding,  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  are 
one  of  several  people  whom  I  want  to  consult  about 
the  jewels." 

Then  Bertha  perhaps  remembered  that  this  man  was 
only  a  detective,  and  her  eyes  grew  cool. 

"I  am  sure,"  pursued  Jaffray,  quite  undismayed,  but 
not  at  all  unobservant  of  her  changed  attitude,  "that 
you  will  help  me  out  a  bit?" 

-  "Really,"  she  responded  icily.  "I  am  just  starting 
for  Saratoga  to  see  my  mother.  Besides,  I  am  en- 
tirely unwilling  to  say  one  word  further  that  might 
implicate  the  unfortunate  girl  who  has  fled,  I  suppose, 
'from  justice." 

198 


"Fled?"  repeated  Jaffray  in  a  tone  of  excellent] 
amazement.  "Has  she  run  away?" 

Bertha  nodded.  "Didn't  you  know?  Hadn't  you 
heard?" 

"I've  just  come,"  he  answered  in  a  perturbed  way. 
"Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  quite  turn  me  down.  You 
can  help  me  so  much  if  you  only  will."  His  tone 
was  personal  and  his  glance  was  in  hers. 

"What  can  I  do  ?"  she  said  coldly. 

"Much." 

"Really?" 

"Assuredly.  Won't  you  wait  just  for  ten  minutes 
and  permit  me  to  ask  you  one  or  two " 

"Oh,"  interrupted  Miss  Wilmerding  hastily,  "I 
couldn't  possibly  stop  in  this  house  another  second." 

"Why  not?"  His  voice  was  up  in  arms,  the  ready 
defending  tone  of  a  man  for  a  woman  who  is  possi- 
bly alone  and  defenseless. 

Bertha  had  never  before  heard  this  particular  in- 
tonation from  man  to  woman,  save  on  the  stage  when 
the  matinee  idol  had  addressed  similar  sentiments  to 
the  heroine.  It  was  a  new  sensation  to  her,  and  it  had 
the  attraction  of  the  pole  for  the  needle.  She  replied 
this  way:  "Mr.  Austin  ordered  me  out."  How  much 
she  yearned  for  more  sympathy  even  this  shrewd  man 
did  not  guess.  It  had  never  occurred  to  her  before 

199 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

to  crave  it,  because  no  least  suspicion  of  sentimental 
interest  had  ever  been  evoked  by  her  in  any  man,  and 
the  novelty  of  it  at  once  created  in  her  the  appetite 
for  more.  She  cast  her  eyes  on  the  floor.  It  did 
not  matter  to  her  one  particle  that  she  was  talking  to 
a  person  whose  occupation  was  out  of  her  class;  she 
keenly  relished  her  first  taste  of  unmistakable  admira- 
tion, and  would  have  stopped  there  an  hour  if  J affray 
had  willed. 

The  detective  said  in  a  low  tone:  "Why  did  Mr. 
Austin  do  that?" 

"It's  a  long  story."    The  girl  fetched  a  sigh. 

"Brute !"  he  ejaculated. 

The  word  thrilled  Bertha  with  its  delicious  accent 
of  resentment  in  her  behalf.  She  smiled,  put  up  a 
deprecating  hand,  and  then  said :  "I  must  really  go." 

"I  am  stupid  to  keep  you  here,  Miss  Wilmerding, 
I  know,  but  you  can  aid  me  so  much  in  unearthing 
this  mystery  of  the  robbery  that  I  am  going  to  be  very 
venturesome."  He  paused. 

"How?"  she  inquired.  Bertha  liked  to  hear  that 
any  one  was  going  to  be  venturesome  with  her  about 
anything:  no  one  ever  had  been  yet.  . 

"I  am  aware  that  I  am  only  a  detective,  out  of  your 
class  entirely,  but  my  father  was  president  of  the 
largest  bank  in  St.  Louis,  and  I  am  a  Harvard  man. 

200 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

I  rather  went  into  this  sort  of  work  at  first  as  a 
lark." 

This  man  was  actually  giving  her  a  bit  of  confi- 
dence ;  he  was  the  first  man  who  ever  had.  She  raised 
her  eyes  to  his,  and  found  in  them  the  quality  of  ap- 
proval which  she,  in  common  with  many  others  of 
her  sex,  always  craves.  She  had  never  found  it  any- 
where before. 

She  answered  quickly :  "I  am  sure  you  are  a  gentle- 
man, no  matter  what  you  do." 

"I  thank  you."  He  paused  a  moment  in  honest 
doubt  as  to  what  course  to  pursue,  for  her  departure 
from  the  Austins'  house  was  against  all  his  prear- 
ranged devices.  "You  said  you  were  going  away?"  he 
ventured,  to  gain  time. 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  San  Francisco." 

"Indeed!"  Jaffray  could  hardly  restrain  his  emo- 
tion. 

"I  have  had  a  bit  of  good  fortune,  Mr.  Jaffray. 
You  must  rejoice  with  me.  Last  night  I  was  the  poor- 
est of  the  poor." 

"Not  poor,"  he  interposed.     "Not  you?" 

"As  a  church  mouse,  Mr.  Jaffray.  Didn't  you  know 
I  was  penniless,  or  comparatively  so?" 

"I  did  not."  His  heart  leaped.  Here  was  an  equal- 
ity he  had  not  dreamed  of. 

20 1 


T.HE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"And  this  morning  I  am,  if  you  please,  an  heiress." 

"I  congratulate  you." 

"Thank  you.  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  San 
Francisco  informing  me  that  I  must  go  there  to  col- 
lect $350,000  left  by  an  uncle." 

Jaffray  bowed.  It  was  not  in  him  to  offer  more 
congratulations,  and  yet,  $350,000  was  not  equal  to  a 
half-million. 

"You  have  just  heard  of  it?"  he  asked.  And  that 
which  sprang  into  being  in  his  brain  was  very  strange. 

"This  very  morning.  The  letter  was  left  in  the 
first  delivery.  Indeed,  I  was  here  in  this  room  early 
before  you  came,  answering  it,  telling  my  lawyer  that 
I  should  go  to  San  Francisco  as  soon  as  I  had  paid 
a  brief  visit  to  my  mother.  She  is  in  Saratoga,  and 
I  go  there  by  the  next  train." 

"And  I  am  detaining  you?"  he  exclaimed,  rising. 

"You  see,"  she  added  irrelevantly,  "there  is  really 
nothing  I  can  do  for  you.  Good-by,  Mr.  Jaffray," 
holding  out  her  hand. 

"Good-by,  Miss  Wilmerding,"  he  responded,  and 
there  was  that  in  his  glance  that  made  Bertha  drop 
her  eyes,  made  her  heart  throb.  She  left  the  room 
and  the  house.  Jaffray  was  again  alone  in  the 
library.  He  had  not  asked  her  the  question  which 
it  had  been  in  his  mind  to  ask.  He  had  not 

202 


made  progress  either  as  man  or  sleuth.  He  stood 
for  some  moments  in  silence,  only  half  conscious 
that  it  was  his  business  to  send  for  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin, or  the  servants,  and  interrogate  them  now  as  to 
Miss  de  Fontanges.  He  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  In- 
stead, reluctantly  he  took  her  envelope  from  his 
pocket.  The  lover  had  impelled  him  to  appropriate 
it.  The  lover  now  commanded  him  to  tear  it  to 
pieces,  to  burn  it.  The  detective  said,  examine  it,  and 
the  detective  had  his  way. 

He  drew  from  another  pocket  a  magnify  ing-glass, 
through  which  he  verified  the  impression  that  his  un- 
aided sight  had  gained  when  he  first  glanced  at  the 
postmark :  the  original  stamp  had  been  tampered  with. 
The  letter  had  been  mailed  in  San  Francisco,  dis- 
tinctly, but  the  date  had  been  changed  to  one  five  days 
before.  Under  the  magnify  ing-glass  the  strokes  of 
a  pen  were  plain,  showing  that  the  original  date  had 
been  something  else.  Not  only  the  figures,  but  the 
name  of  the  month  itself  had  been  altered. 

Circumstantial  evidence. 

But  that  is  always  and  first  the  basis  upon  which 
a  detective  works:  he  pieces  together  inconsequential 
details  and  forges  a  chain  of  evidence  that  convicts. 
In  spite  of  his  infatuation,  the  habit  of  his  mind  made 
him  deduce  a  theory  from  that  empty  envelope.  Why 

203 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

should  she  go  to  San  Francisco  ?  Well,  in  that  distant 
city  jewels  from  New  York  might  be  disposed  of 
without  arousing  suspicion — or  so  an  amateur  thief 
might  think.  This  $350,000  figure — just  half  the 
value  of  the  Austin  jewels.  Half?  Certainly.  Was 
there  not  an  accomplice?  Had  not  Jaff ray's  quick 
perception  leaped  as  straight  to  Struh-La  as  to  Miss 
Wilmerding?  Accomplices  share  equally?  Then  this 
legacy  of  $350,000  would  account  for  Miss  Wilmer- 
ding's  sudden  rise  to  the  position  of  so  great  a  fortune. 

Could  it  be  possible  that  this  woman  not  only  had 
stolen,  but  had  planned  this  device  for  covering  her 
steps?  It  was  clumsily  done,  to  be  sure,  and  yet  it 
was  safe  to  say  that  no  one  but  a  detective  ever  would 
have  noticed  the  change.  So  here  was  evidence  of 
deliberate  plan.  Here  was  an  added  goad  for  him  to 
save  her  from  herself  and  maybe  from  Struh-La. 

Could  he  let  Miss  Wilmerding  leave  New  York? 
A  thousand  times  no!  She  must  be  detained,  even  if 
he  had  to  crush  his  own  heart  and  submit  her  to  the 
ignominy  of  arrest  and  search.  The  jewels,  a  part 
of  them,  might  be,  must  be,  with  her  at  this  moment. 
What  was  he  thinking  of,  he  a  man  known  and  suc- 
cessful in  the  capitals  of  the  world,  to  permit  a  thief 
to  walk  out  from  the  house  under  his  very  eyes  with 
the  booty  in  her  possession? 

204 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

The  lover  had  been  to  the  fore  long  enough.  It  was 
now  the  turn  of  the  detective  to  be  dominant.  With- 
out sending  his  name  to  anybody  else  in  the  house, 
JafFray  went  abruptly  to  the  door.  The  butler  was 
there. 

"Miss  Wilmerding  has  gone,  I  suppose?"  said  Jaf- 
fray. 

"Yes,  sir;  just  five  minutes  ago,"  was  the  reply. 

In  another  five  minutes  Jaffray  was  at  the  Grand 
Central,  and  he  found  Bertha  in  the  waiting-room. 

She  saw  him  as  soon  as  he  saw  her.  Perhaps  she 
was  startled,  but  the  ready  smile  that  some  women 
can  summon  was  upon  her  lips,  and  to  him  there  was 
in  the  brightness  of  her  eyes  a  little  pleasure  at  seeing 
him  again.  With  an  astonished  sense  of  his  own 
weakness,  he  found  that  he  could  not  hold  himself 
toward  her  as  toward  an  ordinary  suspect.  What  he 
had  prearranged  to  say  to  her  fled,  and  the  usually 
cold-blooded  investigator  of  mysteries  found  himself 
actually  stammering. 

"Miss  Wilmerding,"  he  managed  to  say,  "I  really 
hope  you  will  pardon  me,  but  there  are  questions 
which  I  find  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  and  I  didn't  ask 
one  of  them  at  the  house.  So  I  followed  you." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  but  without  speak- 
ing. He  said  simply:  "Do  you  remember  Struh-La?" 

205 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Yes."  Bertha  Wilmerding  seemed  to  turn  into 
stone  as  she  stood  there  answering  this  man;  she  was 
deadly  pale. 

"He  has  hypnotic  power,  hasn't  he?"  Jaffray  went 
on. 

"Yes." 

"You  have  witnessed  some  exhibition  of  it?  You 
see,  Miss  Wilmerding,  I  think  it  possible  that  this  man 
is  behind  the  theft.  I  can  be  confidential  with  you 
because  you  are  going  away.  Struh-La  may  have 
controlled  the  actual  thief,  who  therefore  would  not 
be  morally  guilty,  and,  I  think,  not  legally." 

"Do  you  think  the  governess  was  Struh-La's  sub- 
ject?" asked  Bertha. 

"I  can't  admit  as  much  as  that,  Miss  Wilmerding; 
but  if  she  or  another  were  his  subject,  I,  as  a  de- 
tective, would  do  all  possible  to  shield  her.  You  know 
she,  that  is,  the  person  who  took  the  jewels,  will  have 
great  difficulty  in  disposing  of  them  for  money.  They 
are  very  valuable,  and  Mr.  Stevens'  opals  are  cele- 
brated. Connoisseurs  in  all  parts  of  the  world  know 
about  them,  and  in  all  probability  it  is  only  a  con- 
noisseur who  would  venture  to  buy  Ihem  at  anything 
like  their  value."  He  knew  that  what  he  said  he 
meant  as  a  warning  and  a  protective  to  the  woman 
whom  he  addressed. 

206 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"What  puzzles  a  detective  has  to  solve,  to  be  sure," 
Bertha  said,  a  smile  at  last  reaching  her  lips.  "I  wish 
I  could  help  you,  Mr.  Jaffray,  but  I  really  fear  that 
my  train  is  ready  and  I  ought  to  go." 

"You  have  your  seat  engaged?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Pardon  me  a  moment;  I  will  go  and  see." 

In  less  than  half  a  minute  he  was  back. 

"Fifteen  minutes  yet  before  your  train.  I  must  try 
and  make  that  fifteen  minutes  valuable,  please.  Tell 
me  what  you  have  seen  Struh-La  do." 

Bertha  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and  his  brown 
eyes  softened.  "See  here,"  she  said,  now  laughing, 
"do  you  believe  the  governess  took  the  things,  or 
don't  you?  Because  there's  no  use  in  my  talking 
about  the  girl  to  you  unless  it  is  to  shed  light  on  your 
path." 

"It's  this  way,"  he  replied.  "A  suspect  must  al- 
ways be  given  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  by  law.  I 
dare  not  say  I  believe  this  or  that.  It  is  my  duty  to 
discover.  You  can  shed  light  on  the  character  of  the 
person  whom  I  suspect.  Will  you  do  it  ?" 

"Of  course  I  will,"  she  answered.  "I  met  her  at 
Doctor  Warren's,  at  a  birthday-party  he  gave  for 
Jean,  his  niece." 

"Was  she  at  the  party?" 

207 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"Hardly.  She  was  only  Doctor  Warren's  French] 
teacher  then.  The  party  was  over  and " 

"Who  was  there,  do  you  remember?" 

"Lots  of  children.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Austin,  some  of 
the  other  parents,  and  Professor  Struh-La." 

"Aha!" 

"He  did  some  tricks,"  Bertha  continued. 

"Oh,  legerdemain?"  Jaffray  ejaculated  quietly. 

"No,  no;  See-foo-tee,  he  called  it." 

"What's  that?" 

"Magnetism,  I  should  say,  or  hypnotism,  but  the 
professor  said  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  anything  of 
that  kind,  and  was  used  in  the  schools  in  China." 

"What  was  it  like?" 

"I  don't  quite  know,  Mr.  Jaffray."  She  thus  found 
herself  addressing  him  as  "Mr."  Jaffray;  she  also 
found  herself  picturing  him  as  a  not  improbable 
suitor  for  the  hand  left  vacant  by  Reginald  Stevens' 
defalcation.  She  was  unimaginative,  but  when  a 
woman  of  this  build  wishes  to  be  loved,  the  intricacies 
of  her  thought  are  unfathomable. 

"No  matter,  then,"  he  exclaimed  indifferently.  He 
had  found  indifference  such  a  pass-key  to  so  many 
kinds  of  information. 

"Of  course  I  want  to  tell  you  anything  you  want  to 
know.  Let  me  see,  the  Chinese  are  to  me  such  an  un- 

208 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

interesting  lot.  I  think,"  she  proceeded  ruminatingly, 
"that  he  took  Jean  Austin — I  believe  it  was  Jean. 
However,  that  doesn't  matter,  does  it?" 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"It  was  Jean!  Yes,  I  am  sure  now,  because  her 
mother  and  father  were  there,  and  I  heard  some  one 
say  they  would  not  have  cared  to  have  had  Struh-La 
experimenting  with  any  child  of  theirs." 

"It  was  an  experiment,  then?" 

The  detective  was  rather  at  high  tension  just  then, 
but  Bertha  only  remarked  to  herself  the  shapely  white- 
ness of  his  fingers.  Her  emotions  were  of  that  qual- 
ity which  rapaciously  demanded  an  outlet  at  hand. 
The  remote  did  not  satisfy,  however  much  it  might 
possess  and  harass  her:  for  she  did  recall  Reggie. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  He  led  her  around  the  room, 
and  she  described  to  him  a  garden,  the  flowers,  colors, 
perfumes,  all  that." 

"Hypnotism!"  said  Jaffray  carelessly,  while  his 
breath  came  quickly.  Reggie's  description  had  been 
vague  beside  this,  and  the  details  only  served  to  con- 
vince him  of  Struh-La's  hand  in  the  theft. 

"No!  he  called  it  anything  but  that.  No  one  could 
waken  her,  either." 

"Were  her  eyes  closed?" 

"No!  wide  open." 

209 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

The  detective  fairly  held  his  breath. 

"Every  one  tried  to  waken  or  rouse  her,  or  what- 
ever you  may  call  it." 

"Did  you?" 

"I!    Dear,  no;  I  mean  several  people." 

"The  governess,  perhaps?" 

"She  wasn't  there  then.  Some  one  wanted  to  try, 
but  Struh-La  wouldn't  allow  it.  Finally  the  Chinese 
man  roused  her  himself." 

"Precisely!  Do  you  mind  telling  me  about  your 
first  encounter  with  Miss  de  Fontanges?" 

"Not  at  all.  Everybody  had  left,  as  was  supposed, 
except  Mr.  Stevens.  Mrs.  Austin  thought  Jean  had 
gone  home  with  her  father;  Mr.  Austin  thought  the 
child  was  with  her  mother  and  me.  Instead,  she  had 
fallen  asleep  under  a  table  or  somewhere.  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin was  in  a  state.  I  phoned ;  Reggie  answered.  Mrs. 
Austin  asked  me  to  go  and  fetch  the  child.  I  went 
back  to  the  doctor's ;  he  had  been  called  to  a  patient.  I 
found  Jean  sitting  between  Mr.  Stevens  and  Miss  de 
Fontanges,  an  arm  around  each." 

Jaffray's  eyebrows  lifted.  "Ah,"  he  exclaimed 
sympathetically. 

"She  had  been  Doctor  Warren's  French  teacher  for 
six  months;  it  was  he  who  induced  his  sister,  Mrs. 
Austin,  to  engage  her  as  governess  for  Jean." 

210 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"To  be  sure." 

The  girl  beside  the  detective  now  glanced  into  his 
face  with  an  air  of  undisguised  expectancy.  He  was 
aware  of  it;  he  let  it  increase  until  it  overflowed  into 
speech. 

"Well?"  she  said  interrogatively. 

"Well?"  he  repeated  thoughtfully,  fixing  his  eyes 
upon  her  foot — the  shoe  encasing  it  was  remarkably 
chic. 

"What  do  you  think  ?"    Bertha  was  at  high  tension. 

"You  are  so  good  as  to  forget  my  calling,"  he  re- 
plied humbly.  "My  calling  forbids  me  to  think — • 
aloud.  Tell  me" — and  his  voice  lowered  very  per- 
ceptibly— "what  do  you  think?" 

"About  what?" 

"The  jewels." 

She  laughed  in  a  slow  fashion.  "Gone  to  San 
Francisco  or  some  other  place  with  the  governess." 

"You  really  believe  that?"  His  tone  was  deep  and 
earnest;  his  eyes  were  full  on  hers.  "You  women 
have  such  wonderful  intuitions.  Women  like  you 
can  be  a  great  help  to  a  man — do  you  know  that?" 

"Can  we?    Can  I?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  said  in  a  final  way.  "You  have  given 
me  an  important  clue  to  the  robbery." 

"Oh !"    She  said  it  with  a  shudder. 

211 


"And,"  he  went  on,  "you  have  given  me  one  of 
the  most  peculiarly  delightful  hours  I  ever  spent  in  myj 
life."  There  was  a  rising  storm  of  passionate  feeling 
in  Jaffray's  voice.  She  felt  it — he  wished  her  to  feel 
it.  He  escorted  her  to  her  chair  in  the  train.  The 
girl  said,  half  blindly,  and  yet  in  answer  to  the  call 
of  his  tone :  "When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?" 

"When  do  you  start  West?"  was  his  impetuous 
answer. 

"For  San  Francisco?" 

"Yes,  for  San  Francisco?" 

"Probably  in  three  days." 

"I  will  follow  you."  His  eyes  drank  in  the  flash 
of  hers. 

"You  will  follow  me?"  she  cried  out  under  her 
breath,  while  the  dark  blood  surged  up  into  her  face. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "to  the  ends  of  the  earth."  He 
raised  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  was  gone. 

She  opened  one  of  the  magazines  wide  to  hold  be- 
fore her  face,  and  then  she  laughed  with  exultant 
joy,  as  she  whispered  to  herself:  "He  loves  me;  at 
last  a  man  loves  me,  loves  me,  loves  me." 

The  train  started.  Then  she  remembered  that  Jaf- 
frav  was  a  detective. 


212 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ON  THE   TRAIL 

Jaffray  left  the  Grand  Central  fie  went 
in  an  electric  straight  to  Doctor  Warren's 
apartment. 

Bridget  answered  the  bell. 

"No,  sir,  the  doctor  isn't  in;  he's  afther  going  on 
a  hurry  call  to  the  hospital,  sir.  Would  yez  wait  in 
the  office?" 

Jaffray  would  wait ;  he  would  like  a  pencil.  Bridget 
searched  for  one.  While  she  was  searching,  he  said: 
"You  have  a  nice  place  here?" 

"That  I  have,  sir." 

"Lived  with  the  doctor  a  long  time,  I  suppose?" 
opening  and  shutting  a  book  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"Six  months,  sir." 

"No  matter  about  that  pencil.  I  believe  I  won't 
write  a  note.  You're  a  clever  g'irl  and  can  tell  me  all 
I  want  to  know  just  as  well  as  the  doctor." 

Bridget  halted  in  her  rummaging  over  the  office 
'desk.  "Me,  is  it,  sir?" 

213 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Yes.  I  want  the  address  of  Professor  Struh-La. 
[You  must  know  where  he  lives." 

"Sthrewler,  sir,"  murmured  Bridget,  shaking  her 
head  ruefully. 

"Yes,  Struh-La,  a  Chinese  gentleman." 

"Oh,  the  Chinese  gintleman,  is  it !  Yes,  indeed,  sir, 
that  I  do;  it's  myself  that  often  takes  messages  to 
him  from  the  doctor." 

"Ah,  I  thought  you'd  know."  The  detective  took 
out  his  note-book  and  a  half  a  dollar  from  his  pocket; 
the  latter  he  gave  to  Bridget.  "Too  much !  not  at  all. 
You've  saved  me  time;  and  time  is  money.  Now, 
the  number?" 

"Sure  it's  thankful  I'm  to  you,  sir,  and  yerself  a 
real  gintleman!"  Bridget  was  not  long  from  Ireland, 
and  she  courtsied  down  to  the  ground.  "The  Chinese 
gintleman  lives  at  564  West  iO5th  Street,  sir, 

;:„<. » 

Jlji      •     • 

"Hold  on!"  said  the  man  from  headquarters  sud- 
denly, "perhaps  Doctor  Warren  has  two  Chinese 
friends?" 

Bridget  was  suddenly  appalled  and  silent  over  this 
unforeseen  difficulty. 

"I  mean  the  one,"  Jaffray  went  on,  "who  was  here 
at  Miss  Jean's  birthday-party  a  few  months  since." 

214 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Sure  that's  the  very  one  I  mane,  sir;  him  a  pale- 
looking,  straight-sized  person,  sir." 

"Well,"  said  Jaffray,  "yes,  I  suppose  so,  this  one 
did  some  tricks,  you  remember?  Put  Miss  Jean  Aus- 
tin asleep,  and  so  on?" 

"Did  he  that,  sir?"  Bridget  became  wide-eyed 
and  open-mouthed.  Evidently  she  had  not  been  a  wit- 
ness to  the  professor's  exhibition  of  See-foo-tee. 

"Yes,  and  don't  you  remember  he  was  here  when 
Miss  Wilmerding  came  back  for  Miss  Jean,  and  found 
her  with  Mr.  Stevens  and  Miss — er — the  governess?" 

"Miss  de  Fontanges,  is  it?" 

"Yes,  that's  the  name,  I  believe." 

"Oh,  sure  the  Chinese  gintleman,  sir,  wasn't  here 
when  Miss  Wilmerding  came  back.  He  left  before 
she  came." 

"Oh,  now  did  he?  Why,  I  thought  he  went  away 
when  all  the  others  did." 

"Sure  he  did  that  same,  sir;  but  myself  was  just 
afther  letting  in  Miss  de  Fontanges ;  come  to  give  the 
doctor  his  Frinch  lesson  after  the  party  was  over,  and 
her  a-lookin'  at  herself  in  the  glass,  when  the  bell 
rang,  and  him  back  again." 

"Who  back  again?"  said  the  man  from  headquar- 
ters in  a  succinctly  tense  way,  but  avoiding  Bridget 
with  his  eyes  lest  she  should  lose  her  way. 

215 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"The  Chinese  gintleman,  sir.  Excuse  me  axin'  you, 
sir,  but  is  it  him  the  one  you're  lookin'  for?" 

Jaffray  nodded  as  he  nonchalantly  lighted  a  cigar 
and  wrote  down  the  number  in  his  note-book. 

"Great  friend  of  Miss  de  Fontanges,  too,  I  sup- 
pose ?"  he  said  carelessly. 

"Who,  sir?" 

"The  Chinese." 

"Sure'n  no,  sir,  not  to  my  knowledge.  He  was 
back  lookin'  for  his  cane,  and  whin  I  tould  him  I'd 
find  it  for  him,  he  wint  into  the  parlor  quite  bold 
like,  and  her  there  waiting  for  the  doctor." 

"I  see !    Still  I  guess  they  were  old  friends." 

Bridget  shook  her  head. 

"Twicet,  sir,  I  slipped  out  of  the  kitchen  from 
Annie — she's  the  cook,  sir — me  having  warnings,  sir, 
that  I  should  see  to  thim  two." 

"Is  that  so?"  The  detective  leaned  negligently 
against  the  mantelpiece  while  he  smoked. 

"The  nuns,  sir,  in  the  convent  in  Ballygrad  where 
I  was  raised,  sir,  always  bade  me  pay  attintion  to  my 
warnings." 

"Well,  the  nuns  are  all  right.  What  did  you 
hear?"  He  flicked  the  ash  from  his  Havana  and 
smiled  in  a  leisurely  way. 

"I  niver  liked  the  looks  of  thim  Chinese  min,  sir, 

216 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

and  I  thought  the  world  of  Miss  de  Fontanges,  and 
it's  not  the  likes  of  me,  sir,  as'd  listen  to  anybody's 
talk  and  couldn't  repate  a  word  of  it,  sir;  but  I  heard 
cryin'  and  sobbin'  from  her,  sir,  that  I  did." 

Jaffray  drew  in  his  breath  and  his  lips. 

"Too  bad,"  he  ejaculated.    "Did  he  go  away  then?" 

"He  did  that,  sir,  and  me  just  peeking  from  the 
kitchen  door  seeing  him  sawin'  the  air  like  with  the 
hands  of  him  and  stopping  beyant  there  at  the  turn 
of  the  hall  whin  Mr.  Stevens  come  in." 

"To  be  sure.  Well,  I  must  get  along  now  and  see 
Professor  Struh-La  myself.  Tell  the  doctor  I  couldn't 
wait,  won't  you?" 

"It's  meself  11  do  that  same,  sir,  and  I  hope  you'll 
not  think  me  a  busybody  talkin'  about  my  betters  to 
you,  sir?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for 
talking  to  me,  and  for  letting  me  talk  to  you.  I'm 
quite  sure  there  never  came  a  prettier  pair  of  blue 
eyes  out  of  old  Ireland  than  yours.  Here's  the  other 
half  of  that  dollar  for  you  to  buy  a  ribbon  with. 
Good-by." 

"Oh,  good-by,  sir.  Gracious!  sir,  one'd  take  you 
for  a  gintleman  from  Cork  wid  your  ilegant  spache, 
and  good  luck  to  you." 

The  detective  sprang  into  his  cab. 

217 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

"Number  564  West  iO5th  Street,"  he  said,  and  was 
there  in  no  time.  Jaffray  had  instinctively  taken  for 
granted  that  he  would  pull  up  before  an  apartment- 
house  or  hotel,  and  was  momentarily  nonplused  when 
he  looked  out  and  found  number  564  to  be  a  four- 
story  brownstone  front  with  the  typical  atmosphere 
of  a  boarding-house  abounding  in  the  small  tables 
visible  at  the  basement  windows.  He  did  not  alight, 
but,  lifting  the  lid  of  his  hansom,  told  the  man  to  take 
him  to  his  own  modest  East  Side  flat.  Once  there, 
he  dismissed  the  electric  and  went  in. 

Not  more  than  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  when  from 
the  flat-house  emerged  a  rather  spick-looking  chap 
with  blond  curly  hair,  a  bronzed  complexion,  attired 
in  clothes,  the  cut  of  which  was  unmistakably  and  im- 
pressively English;  he  wore  a  monocle,  and  had  the 
somewhat  bewildered  but  always  supercilious  air  of 
the  Briton  who  has  newly  arrived  in  the  States.  He 
appeared  to  be  looking  vaguely  for  something  up  and 
down  the  crowded  and  noisy  street;  the  spectator 
would  have  said  he  wished  to  hail  a  two-wheeler  and 
expected  them  to  be  standing  about  to  be  hailed  as 
they  did  at  home.  However  that  may  have  been,  a 
hansom  did  bowl  up  just  then,  and  the  young  blond 
man  beckoned  and  got  into  it.  He  said  to  the  driver, 
in  a  pronounced  but  far  from  aggressive  drawl : 

218 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Number — er — 564,  ic>5th  Street,  West,  if  you 
please."  The  doors  snapped,  and  in  a  brief  time  the 
man  from  headquarters  was  for  the  second  time  within 
a  half-hour  set  down  before  the  tall  boarding-house 
where  dwelt  Professor  Struh-La.  He  sprang  out  of 
the  hansom,  ran  up  the  steps,  rang  and  inquired  for 
the  mistress  of  the  house.  She  came,  a  plump  and 
not  displeasing  person  with  a  lace  shirt-waist,  a  large 
veiled  pink  bow,  a  black  skirt,  a  jeweled  chain,  dia- 
mond earrings,  and  an  indiscreetly  blonded  head. 

Jaffray  said,  after  a  profound  and  telling  bow,  that 
he  was  looking  for  rooms  and  that  friends  had  com- 
mended this  lady  to  him. 

The  lady  said  she  had  no  rooms. 

Jaffray  responded  that  he  then  would  like  to  have 
meals. 

The  lady  haughtily  returned  that  she  did  not  serve 
meals  to  outside  persons. 

Jaffray,  in  a  dulcet  but  persuasive  tone,  ventured  to 
inquire  if  some  one  of  the  lady's  guests  was  not  go- 
ing to  leave,  and  he  might  then  have  a  room,  and 
would  be  happy  to  pay  for  the  same  a  week  in  ad- 
vance. 

The  lady,  mollified  apparently  by  this  strictly  com- 
mercial view  of  the  situation,  paused,  said:  "Well," 
and  then  suddenly  brightened  up  as  she  exclaimed: 

219 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Why,  how  stupid  I  am!  The  professor's  room  will 
be  vacant  to-morrow — the  second  floor  front,  with 
dressing-room — if  you  could  wait,  and  I  wouldn't 
mind  giving  you  your  meals  just  for  a  day,  if  you 
would  please  not  mention  it  ?" 

Jaffray  vowed  he  would  not  mention  it,  paid  the 
price,  and  remarked:  "Did  you  say  the  professor, 
madam?  May  I  ask  if  he  is  a  professor  of  music?  I 
am  so  interested  in  music." 

The  lady  shook  her  embarrassed-looking  locks,  and 
answered:  "Oh,  dear,  no;  a  wealthy  Oriental  gentle- 
man, very  distinguished;  he's  professor  of  science — I 
think."  She  hesitated  a  bit,  and  Jaffray  helped  her 
deftly  over  the  bridge  of  her  ignorance  by  exclaim- 
ing: "How  interesting!  I  am  so  sorry  he  is  leaving 
you.  For  China,  I  suppose?"  All  this  time  he  was 
engaged  in  folding  up  his  wad  of  bills  and  replacing 
his  foreign-looking  purse  and  wallet,  also  bestowing 
upon  the  lady  of  the  doubtful  tresses  many  covert  but 
assuredly  admiring  glances. 

"Oh,  no,  he's  going  to  Europe ;  he  sails  to-morrow ; 
I  mean  he  goes  on  board  to-morrow  night  on  the 
Konigen  Luise." 

Jaffray  nodded  as  if  a  bit  bored,  and  asked :  "Could 
I  see  the  room?" 

"I  daren't  show  it  to  you,  but  it's  just  over  this; 

220 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

elegantly  furnished,  too,  with  a  folding  bed  that  cost 
me  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  a  cheffoneyar 
from  Paris  and  real  lace  curtains." 

"I  say!"  cried  Jaffray  ecstatically.  "That  will  be 
quite  what  I  want,  I'm  sure,  and  you  will  permit  me 
to  have  dinner  here  to-night  with  you;  and  break- 
fast and  luncheon,  perhaps,  to-morrow?" 

The  lady,  whose  pale  but  nevertheless  heavily  ac- 
centuated eyes  had  long  before  this  moment  learned 
to  regard  her  new  guest  with  favor,  now  absorbed  his 
beseeching  glance,  and  she  replied:  "Oh,  I  suppose  I 
must;  you  English  gentlemen  have  such  a  way  with 
you." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you  awfully.  I  say  now, 
though,  I  think  you  American  ladies  have  a  way  with 
you  that's  positively — well,  don't  you  know — fetch- 
ing!" And  in  happy  concert  Jaffray  and  the  lady 
with  the  golden  touch-up,  about  the  distribution  of 
which  she  had  been  a  trifle  uneven,  both  laughed  long 
and  pleasantly. 

Then  he  asked  the  dinner-hour,  and  she  said  it  was 
seven,  and  he  left  his  topcoat  with  her  and  went  off, 
promising  to  be  back  on  time  quite  for  the  evening 
meal.  He  then  paid  his  cabman,  dismissed  him,  and, 
taking  a  car,  returned  to  his  flat.  In  fifteen  minutes 
he  emerged  quite  as  himself,  and  going  into  a  tele- 

221 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

phone-booth  that  was  really  private  he  rang  up  Regi- 
nald Stevens.  "This  is  I.  Yes.  What  have  you 
learned  ?  That's  bad,  but  I  hardly  supposed  you  would 
accomplish  anything.  Yes,  I  have.  When  did  you 
get  back?  I  am  lucky  to  catch  you,  then.  I  have 
picked  up  the  first  link  in  the  chain.  Yes.  Will  be 
with  you  inside  of  ten  minutes.  Good-by." 

He  rushed  to  the  Subway  and  was  very  soon  witH 
Stevens  in  his  library. 

He  said  first:  "I  have  just  told  Jermyn  and  my* 
other  men  over  the  wire,  caught  him  at  headquarters, 
to  go  to  all  the  different  railway-stations  to  find  out, 
if  possible,  if  Miss  de  Fontanges  has  left  the  city." 

Stevens  was  walking  the  floor,  very  nearly  dis- 
tracted, but  cool  and  calm  to  outside  appearance. 

"What  have  you  found  out  ?  What  is  the  first  link 
in  the  chain?"  he  asked  impatiently. 

"Struh-La  is  still  in  New  York." 

"Well,  well?" 

"Miss  de  Fontanges  is  in  New  York." 

"Then  you  connect  the  two  ?"  Stevens  said. 

"I  must.  Listen."  The  detective  recounted  his  in- 
terview with  Bridget,  and  even  then  Reggie  could 
not  bring  himself  to  tell  Jaffray  the  one  fact  in  his 
own  knowledge  that  suggested  Luliani's  complicity. 
But  he  was  forced  to  acknowledge  to  himself  now 

222 


THE  'FL'AME  'DANCER 

that  Luliani  and  the  Oriental  had  had  a  past  to- 
gether. 

What  might  that  past  not  have  been? 

He  did  not  know,  save  that  it  could  never  have 
been  to  her  disadvantage,  and  to  tell  the  truth  he  did 
not  care.  All  he  cared  for  was  to  reach  her. 

Jaffray  told  him  of  his  plan  of  espionage  over  the 
Chinese  until  he  should  sail,  and  said  he  thought 
there  was  a  possibility  that  Miss  de  Fontanges  might 
sail  with  Struh-La. 

Stevens  answered:  "No."  He  sat  down  and  rose 
up ;  he  said  to  the  other  man,  in  a  savage  way :  "Send 
me  twenty  detectives,  the  best  you've  got,  Pinkerton 
men;  I  can't  sit  still  here,  not  an  hour;  I  must  cover 
every  boat,  train,  hotel  in  town.  Go  on  with  your 
scheme,  go  on;  it's  all  right,  I  suppose;  but  find  her, 
find  her,  cost  what  it  may,  and  let  all  the  rest  of  it  go 
to  hell." 


223 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   REACH    OF   THE    HUMAN   SOUL 

IN  the  early  gray  morning  of  the  day  after  Mrs. 
Austin's  famous  ball,  Luliani  de  Fontanges  had, 
with  a  certain  measuredness  in  all  her  movements, 
changed  her  gown,  put  on  her  hat,  coat,  and  veil,  and 
started  from  the  study.  To  any  one  watching  her 
there  would  have  been  an  almost  unnatural  calm  in 
her  movements — a  formalism  which  argued  no  anx- 
iety toward  departure.  She  went  down  the  broad 
stairs  slowly,  crossed  to  the  front  door,  slipped  off  the 
chain-bolts,  turned  the  knob,  pushed  back  the  glass 
outer  doors,  and,  closing  them,  stepped  out  on  the 
stoop.  For  a  second  she  stood  still,  then  went  down 
the  steps;  again  she  stood  still,  while  the  fresh  air  of 
the  early  morning  touched  her  face  and  blew  her  veil 
out  behind  her.  She  stood  expectantly,  as  one  who 
awaits  the  coming  of  the  other  one,  and  as  her  eyes 
moved  right  and  left  it  became  unmistakable  that 
whoever  the  girl  waited  for  would  be  the  person  to 
determine  her  path.  In  a  few  moments,  the  street 
being  silent,  empty,  the  figure  of  a  man  in  an  Inver- 

224 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

ness,  with  turned-up  collar,  and  his  hat  knocked  far 
down  over  his  eyes,  staggered  up,  it  would  seem,  from 
one  of  the  near-by  areas.  He  walked  as  a  man  walks 
who  has  taken  a  great  deal  too  much  wine.  He  did 
not  look  toward  Luliani  de  Fontanges,  even  as  he 
passed  her  by,  but  with  composure  and  a  certain  sort 
of  expectedness  in  her  air,  she  immediately  followed 
him  the  length  of  the  block  westward  to  Sixth  Ave- 
nue. They  met  no  one.  At  the  corner  an  L  train 
was  thundering  overhead  and  two  trolley-cars  were 
passing;  the  man  turned  northward  and  entered  a 
liquor-saloon.  Miss  de  Fontanges  paused  and  glanced 
about  her  in  a  rather  listless  fashion.  A  cab  drawn  by,» 
a  fine  black  horse  and  driven  by  a  negro  came 
sharply  around  the  northerly  corner.  The  figure  of 
the  man  in  the  Inverness  could  be  seen  standing  within 
the  saloon;  his  hand  was  on  the  button  of  the  half 
door,  which  he  held  open. 

Luliani  looked  at  him  much  as  one  looks  at  the 
person  who  is  a  guide;  then  she  walked  to  the  cab, 
which  had  pulled  up  at  the  curb.  Some  one,  a  woman 
from  the  dress,  and  heavily  veiled,  opened  the  cab 
door,  made  room  for  her,  and  she  got  in.  The  man 
in  the  Inverness  came  out  of  the  drink-shop  and  stood 
for  a  moment  idly  staring  at  the  cab  as  it  was  driven 
away.  It  rattled  down-town ;  at  the  corner  of  Doyers 

225 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

and  Pell  Streets  it  stopped,  and  presently  the  man  in 
the  Inverness  appeared,  this  time  with  his  hat  rather 
up  and  his  cape  rather  down.  It  was  Struh-La.  He 
opened  the  cab  door.  Miss  de  Fontanges  and  her 
companion,  a  Chinese  woman,  it  now  was  apparent, 
and  of  middle  age,  both  alighted.  Struh-La  said  to 
Luliani : 

"You  are  going  to  San  Francisco  with  this  wom- 
an; her  name  is  Woo  Fong;  she  speaks  English  and 
comprehends  entirely — exactly  how  to  travel,  to  pay 
out  money,  to  take  care  of  you.  She  obeys  my  in- 
structions always.  You  will  do  as  she  says." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  lifted  her  head;  her  eyes  met 
those  of  the  Chinese,  a  little  in  attempted  defiance. 

Struh-La  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  the  manner  of 
the  French.  "It  is  useless  for  you,"  he  remarked 
pleasantly.  "I  follow  you  on  a  separate  train,  it  is 
true,  but  at  Chicago  I  shall  be  on  the  same  one  with 
you.  Woo  Fong  has  money  in  abundance;  you  must 
have  whatever  you  wish;  she  has  clothes  also  and 
other  necessaries.  Good-by;  that's  all." 

The  Chinaman's  eyes  did  not,  however,  quit  the 
girl's  face,  nor  did  he  move  a  muscle  of  his  implacable 
body  toward  or  away  from  her.  She  stood  on  the 
'dirty  sidewalk,  the  Chinese  woman  near  her,  while 
the  cab  went  away.  There  was  then  no  sound  to  be 

226 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

heard  save  the  slip-slap  of  a  single  blind  in  the  tall 
tenement  before  which  these  three  people  stood;  a 
little  flame,  three  fingers  broad  perhaps,  shot  between 
the  shutters;  it  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  long 
trail  of  blue  smoke  blown  out  by  the  smoker  within; 
a  lean  cat  crossed  the  pavement,  searching  for  scraps 
in  the  pails  and  boxes;  it  mewed ,  angrily  in  defeated 
hunger.  Its  snarl  roused  the  white  girl  an  instant 
from  her  apparent  stupefaction,  and  she  made  a  pitia- 
ble dart  toward  freedom.  The  yellow  woman  put  out 
both  hands  to  grasp  her,  but  Struh-La  shook  his  head 
and  the  Oriental  woman  dropped  back.  The  China- 
man, with  the  intensity  of  his  eyes  alone,  called  a 
halt  on  Luliani's  movement ;  she  stood  arrested  merely 
by  the  power  of  his  will. 

She  was  wholly  conscious.  It  is  perhaps  only  a 
person  who  has  been  under  this  species  of  thraldom 
who  can  comprehend  that  it  is  a  wholly  conscious 
thraldom,  that  the  mind  works  as  freely  against  it 
as  if  it  were  not  in  supremacy  over  the  mind  and  the 
body;  it  is  a  fact  that  a  human  being  so  enthralled 
is  so  despite  himself,  and  not  at  all  because  intelligence 
is  not  in  commission.  Luliani  de  Fontanges  was  rea- 
soning out  her  position  for  herself  just  as  capably, 
standing  there  on  the  Doyers  Street  pavement,  in- 
capacitated from  getting  away  from  Struh-La,  as  if 

227 


T.HE  F.LAME   DANCER 

she  had  never  met  him.  As  she  stood,  a  slip  of  the 
first  sunshine  of  that  new  day  crept  around  the  cor- 
ner and  struck  upon  her  face.  She  felt  the  light,  if 
not  the  heat  of  it,  and  suddenly  something  within 
her  snapped  for  gladness.  She  recognized  the  tran- 
scendent glory  of  defeat.  It  is  a  great  soul  only  that 
can  acknowledge  this  in  even  normal  conditions.  Here 
the  conditions  were  abnormal  and  illucid  to  a  painful 
degree,  but  she  was  triumphantly  glad.  Within  the 
space  of  those  few  moments,  there  at  bay  before  her 
Chinese  tyrant,  she  experienced  the  keenest  joy  that 
had  yet  come  into  her  life,  because  she  realized  the 
indisputable  fact  that  in  a  case  like  hers  she  could  not 
be  worthy  of  the  man  she  loved  unless  she  could  be 
able,  alone,  unaided  by  him  or  any  other,  to  break 
the  strange  bonds  that  bound  her.  She  was  glad  that 
she  had  not  been  married  to  Reggie  Stevens ;  she  was 
glad,  since  Struh-La  still  possessed  the  power  over 
her,  that  Struh-La  had  fetched  her  out  of  the  Aus- 
tins' house  down  here  to  the  Chinese  quarter.  She 
could  not  as  yet  break  from  him — possibly  she  never 
could?  Well,  then,  she  never  could  be  worthy  of 
Reginald  Stevens,  but  she  felt,  some  way,  in  behind 
the  iron  of  her  spiritual  bars,  that  the  day  would 
come  when  she  and  she  alone  could  burst  them  and 
bid  the  Oriental  a  supreme  and  final  defiance.  She 

228 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

was  made  of  the  fibre  that  heroines  are — and  yet  she 
swayed  to  the  will  of  this  man  as  the  lily  sways  to 
the  wind  that  bends,  but  may  not  break  it. 

Her  thoughts  took  only  a  very  few  minutes. 
Struh-La,  satisfied  with  his  achievement,  walked  away. 
Woo  Fong  pulled  her  charge  into  the  tenement.  They 
had  breakfast,  waited  on  by  two,  who  also  watched. 
Then  a  carriage  came  and  trunks  were  put 'on  it,  the 
women  were  assisted  in,  and,  directed  by  Woo  Fong, 
Luliani  said:  "To  the  Grand  Central  Station." 

"No!  No!  I  forget — no!  no!"  cried  the  Chinese 
woman.  "It  is  Pennsylvania  Station." 

To  the  Pennsylvania  they  were  taken.  The  cab 
dismissed,  tickets  were  bought  to  Washington.  -The 
baggage  was  chequed — suddenly  to  be  unchequed,  an- 
other carriage  called,  and  trunks  and  women  driven 
to  the  Grand  Central,  whence  they  shortly  started 
for  Chicago,  it  now  being  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

Reginald  Stevens  and  two  Pinkerton  men  were 
covering  the  Grand  Central  at  precisely  the  time  when 
Miss  de  Fontanges  was  leaving.  He  himself  had  been 
standing  for  above  twenty  minutes  at  one  of  the  doors 
giving  upon  the  train  platforms.  He  turned  away  to 
cross  to  another,  wearied  and  irritated  with  the  seem- 
ing hopelessness  of  his  task.  Since  neither  of  his  em- 

229 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

ployes  knew  Miss  de  Fontanges  by  sight,  the  pursuit 
had  its  futile  aspect,  so  far  as  the  Pinkerton  men  were 
concerned.  As  he  joined  one  of  these  at  one  door, 
Miss  de  Fontanges,  covered  by  the  Oriental  wrap  and 
a  long  thick  veil  which  the  Chinese  woman  had  put 
upon  her  in  the  tenement  in  Doyers  Street,  and  Woo 
Fong  passsed  to  their  train  by  the  very  portal  he  had 
just  quitted.  His  men  having  nothing  to  tell  him,  he 
retraced  his  steps  before  going  to  the  other  railway- 
stations  where  he  had  ordered  men  to  watch.  He 
crossed  back  mechanically.  Had  he  been  asked  for 
a  reason  he  could  not  have  given  one.  The  gateman 
was  already,  of  course,  in  his  pay;  Reggie  looked  at 
him  half  inquiringly. 

"Not  a  soul,  sir,  that  could  possibly  be  the  young 
lady.  No  woman  under  forty,  I  should  say,  has  gone 
through  here  since  you  left  me,  unless  it  might  be  one 
of  the  two  Chinese  that " 

"Chinese !"  Stevens  repeated  in  a  quick,  tense  voice ; 
adding  harshly  and  interrogatively:  "A  Chinese 
man?" 

"No,  sir;  no,  sir."  Stevens  took  breath.  "Two 
women — one  of  them  fat  and  likely  old;  the  other 
slimmer,  but  both  so  done  up  in  their  heathen  duds 
you  couldn't  see  much  of  their  faces." 

Stevens  was  turning  a  deaf  ear  by  this  to  the  gate- 

230 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

man's  remarks,  also  turning  on  his  heel,  when  the 
employe  added :  "If  it's  a  Chinese  man  you're  looking 
for,  sir,  there's  one  over  there.  He  was  close  by  when 
his  two  countrywomen  went  to  their  train.  See  him, 
there?" 

Reginald  looked  across,  and  beheld  Struh-La  in  the 
very  acute  angle  of  a  characteristic  dispersal  of  him- 
self among  the  crowd  now  surging  up  to  the  doors 
for  local  trains.  But  the  instant  that  the  professor 
caught  sight  of  Stevens  he  abandoned  his  scheme  of 
losing  himself  and  slipped  up  to  the  American,  put- 
ting out  a  friendly  hand  as  he  did  so. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Stevens?" 

"How  are  you?"  returned  Reggie,  not  seeing  the 
groffered  hand. 

"You  are  by  this  time — married  ?"  said  the  Oriental 
sedately.  "Perhaps  I  interrupt  you  departing  on  your 
honeymoon?"  He  smiled  a  little. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Stevens.  "Where  are  you  bound 
'for?" 

"I  am  here  just  now  seeing  two  Chinese  ladies  of 
my  acquaintance  off  to  San  Francisco."  Stevens 
gasped  a  bit  as  the  yellow  man  glibly  uttered  the  name 
of  the  Calif ornian  city. 

"Yes?    You're  not  going  across  yourself,  then?" 

231 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Yes,  across  to  Paris.  I  sail  to-morrow,  but  I  go 
on  board  this  evening — the  Konigin  Luise.  I  am  ask- 
ing all  my  friends,  my  best  friends,  I  mean,  to  come 
down,  drink  some  champagne,  and  bid  me  bon  voyage. 
Possibly  if  you  had  nothing  better  to  do,  and  madam 
also,  you  would  both  join  my  little  group?  It  would 
make  me  very  much  happiness  if  you  would." 

"Would  it?"  replied  Stevens  laconically.  Just  for 
ten  seconds,  attribute  it  to  what  force  one  will,  he 
forgot  that  he  was  in  deadly  haste  to  be  off,  to  phone 
to  the  other  detectives,  to  ring  up  Jaffray  or  to  find 
him  somewhere — just  for  ten  seconds,  not  long,  but 
still  a  portion  of  time.  Then  he  said,  shifting  a  bit 
uneasily:  "Thank  you;  good-by;  a  smooth  voyage  to 
you." 

Struh-La  watched  him  leave  the  station  and  get  into 
an  electric.  Then  the  Chinese  went  out  and  got  into 
an  electric,  too;  and  he  laughed,  as  the  tigers  may 
laugh  among  themselves  when  the  jungle  is  hot  and 
moist,  and  when  theif  fangs  are  fastened  in  the  flesh 
they  love. 

Reginald  reached  his  men  one  by  one,  but  none  of 
them  had  a  solitary  item  to  give — nor  any  glimpse  of 
hope  or  shadow  of  identification.  Miss  de  Fontanges 
was  not  stopping  at  any  hotel  in  New  York;  she  had 
not  left  by  any  boat  or  train.  He  then  tried,  at  first 

232 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

vainly,  to  get  Jaffray.  At  last  he  reached  him  over 
the  wire  at  his  own  flat. 

"  'No  news'  ?"  Reggie  said.  "No,  I  didn't  suppose 
you  had.  I  met  the  Chinese.  What's  that?  Where?, 
Grand  Central.  What's  that  ?  'Come  to  you  at  once  ?' 
Why,  yes,  if  you  wish  it.  Coming.  Good-by." 

He  went,  and  found  Jaffray  getting  himself  up  in 
his  English  disguise,  also  laying  out  on  his  sofa  a  com- 
plete outfit  for  a  Roman  Catholic  priest,  including  a 
jet-black  wig  and  a  box  of  make-up  with  a  mirror  top. 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Stevens,  if  I  go  on  with  my  toilet 
and  so  forth,  for  there  is  no  time  for  me  to  lose." 

"Go  on,  go  on,  of  course.  But  what  do  you  want 
to  see  me  for?" 

"You  say  you  met  Struh-La  at  the  Grand  Central  ? 
I  thought  I  was  covering  him  myself  and  I  put  no 
one  else  on  him.  What  was  he  doing  there,  could  you 
make  out?" 

"Well,  one  of  the  doormen  told  me  that  not  a 
woman  under  forty  had  passed  through  unless  it  might 
be  two  Chinese  women  who  had  gone  for  a  train, 
and " 

Jaffray  dropped  his  blond  make-up  stick  with  a  snap 
into  the  tin  box;  his  light  eyes  flashed. 

"And "  the  detective  repeated,  leaning  over  to- 
ward his  employer  eagerly,  and  at  the  same  time  re- 

233 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

garding  him  as  one  man  of  action  and  wit  regards 
another  of  the  same  calibre  who  appears  to  have 
temporarily  lost  his  hold  upon  cause  and  effect,  or 
upon  his  own  reasoning  powers. 

"And "   repeated  the  millionaire  in  a  curious 

tone,  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead  as  he  spoke 
— the  detective's  eyes  still  riveted  on  his  face,  now  in 
a  frankly  stupefied  amazement. 

"Yes" — Stevens  now  spoke  abruptly,  rising  and 
pacing  up  and  down  the  tiny  room  in  an  impatient 
way,  as  one  does  when  one  is  nettled  and  embarrassed 
— "yes,  the  gateman  told  me  that — er — in  fact,  Struh- 
La  himself  told  me  he  was  there  to  see  two  of  his 
countrywomen  off  to "  He  hesitated. 

"To  where?"  asked  the  detective  in  a  tense,  undefer- 
ential  voice. 

"San  Francisco,"  returned  the  other,  as  he  stopped 
short  before  his  interlocutor  as  if  suddenly  brought 
to  bay. 

"Gad!"  Jaffray  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Man  alive!" 
he  exclaimed,  "one  of  those  two  Chinese  women  was 
Miss  de  Fontanges,  I'll  wager  my  life." 

Stevens  stared  at  the  detective;  then  he  glanced 
around  the  room. 

Jaffray  understood.  He  quickly  fetched  a  flask  of 
whisky  and  a  glass,  and  the  water-bottle. 

234 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

Reggie  shook  himself  and  ejaculated:  "Give  it  to 
me  raw."  Then  he  drained  the  tumbler.  "I'm  a  fool," 

he  said,  "I'm  knocked  up — I "  He  poured  out 

more  rye  and  swallowed  it.  The  detective  regarded 
him  carefully;  then  he  spoke  in  a  low,  even  tone. 

"Mr.  Stevens,  they've  got  at  least  one  uour's  start 
of  us,  and  you  must " 

Reginald  set  down  the  empty  glass  and  laughed. 
"See  here,  Jaffray,"  he  said,  "you're  a  mighty  clever 
fellow,  and  you  know  that  in  a  certain  fashion  I  have 
felt  the  influence  of  that  Chinese.  I  see  and  feel  his 
eyes  as  she  must  see  and  feel  them,  gnawing  into  her 
soul,  her  flesh.  There  is  something  occult — damna- 
ble. I  individually  would  not  be  subject  to  it — I  am 
subject  to  it  through  her." 

Jaffray  nodded.  "I  am  conscious  of  it,"  Stevens 
continued.  "I  know  as  well  as  you  do  that  I  am 
standing  talking  here,  wasting  the  minutes  that  I 
should  be  using  to  start  after  her.  God/*  He  whis- 
pered the  word  as  he  sank  upon  a  chair.  "I  feel  it, 
as  she  is  feeling  it,  in  my  hands,  my  feet,  my  brain, 
my  soul.  It  is  the  writhe  and  wring  of  crucifixion." 
He  shuddered.  He  was  a  very  ruddy,  powerful  man, 
and  one  who  never  before  in  his  life  had  voiced  an 
emotion. 

Jaffray  watched  him.  He  did  not  speak  any  more 

*35 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

or  touch  his  companion,  but  went  quietly  to  his  own 
affairs,  only  pausing  to  go  to  the  phone  and  summon 
Jermyn  at  once. 

Stevens  sat  still  for  perhaps  five  minutes,  his  head 
leaning  down  in  his  hands;  then  he  glanced  up,  and 
all  the  good  red  blood  in  his  big  body  seemed  to  be 
in  his  face,  the  veins  in  his  throat  stood  out  like  blue 
cords  and  his  eyes  swam  in  the  intensity  of  an  effort 
that  was  superhuman.  It  was  the  fight  between  two 
souls,  the  yellow  and  the  white.  It  was  fought  in  the 
air,  and  the  blades  of  the  combatants  were  sharp  with 
the  sweetness  of  the  prize  for  which  they  struggled, 
parried,  thrust,  and  cut.  One  heard  nothing  save  the 
breathing  of  the  white  man — but  the  white  man  felt 
in  every  sinew  and  bone  the  splendid  agony  of  a 
mortal  contest.  Yet  he  sat  still,  with  folded  arms 
and  eyes  fixed  on  the  cherry  mantelpiece  of  the  little 
flat  parlor — while  his  soul  and  the  yellow  man's  soul 
and  the  soul  of  the  woman  all  struggled  there  in  the 
inevitable  triangle  together. 

And  the  other  man  went  on  with  his  preparations. 

St.  George's  bells  struck  out  the  hour. 

Stevens  got  up.    The  detective  looked  at  him. 

"Going?"  asked  Jaffray  in  a  matter-of-fact  fashion, 
as  Stevens  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob. 

236 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Yes."  He  took  a  deep  breath.  "I  am  going  to 
San  Francisco  now." 

"Yes,"  replied  Jaffray.  "Just  as  soon  ^  I  see 
Struh-La  I'll  follow  you."  The  bell  rang.  "Ha,  that's 
Jermyn.  I  sent  for  him.  Will  you  take  him  with 
you?" 

Reggie  said:  "Yes,"  as  Jaffray  admitted  the  third 
man. 

"You  are  to  go  to  San  Francisco  with  Mr.  Stevens," 
he  said  to  the  newcomer,  who  asked: 

"When?" 

"Now,"  answered  Reginald,  as  he  went  out  of  the 
open  door.  "Wire  me  at  each  town  en  route,  Jaf- 
fray. I'll  wire  you  which  route  I  take  as  soon  as  I 
have  seen  that  gateman."  He  inclined  his  head.  Jer- 
myn followed  Stevens  to  the  electric.  They  were 
whirling  up  to  the  Grand  Central;  in  five  minutes 
they  had  ascertained  that  the  Chinese  women  were  go- 
ing to  Chicago,  had  boarded  a  westbound  express, 
and  Reginald  Stevens  was  speculating  on  the  proba- 
bilities of  his  overtaking  Luliani  de  Fontanges  and 
wresting  her  from  the  power  of  the  yellow  woman. 
At  least  Struh-La  was  still  in  New  York,  and  Jaffray 
would  not  lose  sight  of  him.  Amid  all  this  confusion 
of  intricacies  pro  and  con  there  reigned  in  his  mind 
a  magnificent  joy  as  he  realized  that  for  ten  minutes 

237 


THE   FL"AME   DANCER 

* — if  that  only — he  had  suffered  with  her,  through1 
her,  for  her,  the  torture  of  the  yellow  man's  domina- 
tion, and  now  he  was  free  of  it,  but  equipped  with  the 
knowledge,  the  experience  of  this  occult  power,  and, 
therefore,  he  fancied  able  to  fight  and  overcome  it. 
He  telephoned  to  Jaffray's  flat  from  a  little  town,  tell- 
ing him  his  primary  destination. 


238 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NO.   6072   AND   NO.    89116 

J AFFRAY'S  young  man,  who  had  charge  of  the 
flat  in  the  detective's  absences,  at  once  went  up 
to  the  io5th  Street  boarding-house,  where  he 
found  the  "Honorable  Percy  Cyril  Saunders"  (for  so 
was  he  known  to  the  lady  of  the  vacillating  locks)' 
in  the  parlor  awaiting  the  dinner-bell,  and,  secondarily, 
the  departure  of  Professor  Struh-La  from  the  room 
which  he  had  so  promptly  paid  in  advance  to  secure. 
The  lady  hovered  hard  by,  slipping  easily  in  and  out 
through  the  half-open  folding  doors  which  separated 
her  own  sanctum  from  the  parlor.  But  to  her  credit 
be  it  said,  she  went  down-stairs  as  soon  as  she  had 
inspected  the  Hon.  Percy's  guest.  Thomas  Upson 
was  not  one  to  engage  a  lady's  fancy. 

"Mr.  Stevens  has  taken  the  Northern  route,  sir." 

"Good." 

"The  wire  was  from  Chillingville." 

"Yes." 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  but  couldn't  you  wire  Chicago  to 
arrest  the  two  women  as  soon  as  they  reached  there?" 
inquired  the  unprepossessing  Thomas. 

239 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"On  what  grounds?" 

"I  don't  know"— baffled. 

"Neither  do  I,  Upson." 

"Might  they  not  be  detained?" 

"For  what  cause?" 

"Abduction  of  the  younger  by  the  older — kidnap- 
ing," was  Upson's  answer.  He  was  a  sharp  youth, 
alert  for  getting  onto  anything  so  as  to  make  himself 
felt  and  worth. 

"I  had  thought  of  it,"  returned  the  man  from  head- 
quarters, "but  it's  no  use  in  this  case.  Impossible. 
The  young  woman  is  apparently  going  of  her  own 
free  will.  See?  We're  out  on  that." 

"I  see.    Any  further  orders,  sir?" 

"None.  You  know  when  and  where  you  are  to 
meet  me  to-night.  Don't  forget  the  box  and  the 
case." 

"No,  sir.    You  think  he  won't  sail?" 

"Sure  of  it." 

The  variegated  brow  of  the  susceptible  landlady 
now  appeared  between  the  folding  doors  and  then 
withdrew  with  a  little  girlish  startled :  "Excuse  me,  I'd 
no  idea " 

She  hadn't  many  of  them. 

Upson  left,  and  presently  the  dinner-bell  rang  and 
Mrs.  Montmorency,  the  landlady,  then  had  the  pleas- 

240 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

lire  of  taking  the  Hon.  Percy  down  into  the  basement 
dining-room  and  of  presenting  him  wholesalely  to  her 
guests,  among  whom  were  several  young  and  mar- 
riageable ladies,  who  viewed  him  with  appraising  joy. 
She,  however,  introduced  him  in  the  retail  fashion  to 
Professor  Struh-La,  who  was  as  pleased  as  human 
beings  usually  are  when  singled  out  by  one  of  their 
kind  for  elevation  of  never  so  slight  a  degree  beyond 
the  level  of  their  human  surroundings.  Struh-La  rose, 
bowed,  put  out  his  hand,  and  expressed  much  delight 
at  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  young  Englishman. 
Talk  drifted  easily  into  congenial  topics:  education, 
psychology,  reminiscences  on  both  sides  of  foreign 
lands;  anecdotes;  a  profound  interest  on  the  part  of 
the  Hon.  Percy  in  the  Orient,  its  women,  literature, 
art,  music. 

"Ah,"  Struh-La  sighed.  "There  we  as  a  nation 
have  no  recognition  from  the  other  nations,  in  music." 

"But  have  you  music?"  inquired  the  Hon.  Percy. 

"I  see,"  returned  the  Oriental.  "You  think  of  us 
only  as  beaters  of  drums  and  triangles;  but  could  you 
sail  with  me  down  one  of  our  amber  rivers,  under 
our  yellow  stars,  with  our  winds  perfumed  from  the 
small  red  roses ;  and  the  large  yellow  peaches  bursting 
open  from  their  wealthy  juice — could  you  then  listen 
to  the  boatmen  singing  the  soft  songs  of  the  Yangst- 

241 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Tehee;  could  you  hear  the  little  yellow  girls  answer- 
ing with  their  flute  voices  from  the  dark-green,  shady 
shores;  could  you  detect  the  muffled  drums  beaten  by 
the  silken-tipped  sticks,  the  triangles  fine  as  silver 
struck  by  silver;  the  reed  pipes;  the  wind-violins,  the 
zitherns  fingered  by  hands  as  tender  as  almond  blos- 
soms; the  harps " 

The  Hon.  Percy  said:  "I  hear  them  all  now,  Pro- 
fessor Struh-La ;  your  description  brings  them  to  me." 
Jaffa-ay  felt,  in  an  outside  fashion,  the  wonderful 
power  of  the  man  at  his  side;  the  insidious,  exquisite 
mentality — sensuous,  keen,  overmastering. 

"I  myself  play  a  little — the  harp." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  returned  the  supposed  English- 
man; "no  one  could  speak  of  music  as  you  do  and 
not  be  a  musician." 

Mrs.  Montmorency  and  the  three  marriageable  but 
quite  unattached  ladies  exchanged  glances  of  lan- 
guishing delight.  Each  of  the  three  saw  herself  a 
possible  Hon.  Mrs.  Percy,  etc.,  etc. 

"You  are  so  good,  sir,"  Struh-La  said. 

"Far  from  it.  My  only  regret  is  that  you  are  to 
leave  this  country,  where  I  am  but  just  arrived,  so 
soon." 

"I  am  sorry,  for  we  are  interested  in  the  same  sub- 
jects," Struh-La  said  with  easy  fluency. 

242 


"That  is  very  true,"  returned  the  detective  heartily. 
"And  you  really  do  sail  to-morrow,  professor?" 

Struh-La  inclined  his  head.  "In  fact,  I  go  on  board 
the  ship  just  now,  after  the  dinner.  I  have  some 
excellent  friends  coming  to  see  me  off.  Perhaps  you 
know  them,  too,  and  you  will  also  come?" 

Jaffray  had  never  believed  as  firmly  in  psychologic 
forces  as  at  that  particular  moment,  for  the  Oriental 
was  doing  precisely  what  he  most  wanted  him  to  do. 

"Delighted!"  he  exclaimed.     "Which  boat?" 

"The  Konigin  Luise." 

"Ah,"  doubtfully.  Jaffray  now  played  in  thought 
and  tone  for  a  yet  higher  stake — one  mischievously 
intellectual  and  not  necessary  to  his  scheme.  He  was 
succeeding  well  enough  to  allow  himself  a  bit  of 
amusement.  He  added:  "I  know  so  little  of  New 
York;  only  a  day  here,  you  see.  Where  does  your 
boat  sail  from?  Near  the  Cunarder,  perhaps?" 

"Pardon  me,  as  a  stranger,  but  if  you  will  be  so 
condescending  and  go  down  with  me  in  the  cab,  I  shall 
be  most  happy?"  Struh-La  spoke  with  admirable 
grace.  As  an  adventurous  intellect  of  the  first  class 
it  also  entertained  him  quite  a  little  to  thus  become 
intimate  in  the  presence  of  all  these  other  persons  with 
the  little  lion  from  Britain  and  bear  him  off  to  the 
ship. 

243 


XHE  FLAME   DANCER 

The  detective  answered  with  earnest  effusion. 
"You  are  much  too  kind,  I  say!  I  shall  be  charmed. 
It's  not  every  newly  landed  chap  that  can  boast  of  an 
invitation  from  a  man  like  you." 

The  Oriental  bowed.  "There  are  spirits  that  are 
kindred,"  he  said,  taking  up  his  coffee-cup. 

"Indeed  there  are,"  answered  Jaffray,  draining  his 
and  nearly  choking  with  the  humor  of  his  little  side- 
show. 

All  three  of  the  marriageable  young  ladies  had 
sighed  acquiescence  when  the  words  kindred  spirits 
had  fallen  from  the  professor's  lips.  Jaffray  be- 
stowed a  ravishing  glance  along  the  line,  they  were 
all  opposite  to  him,  bringing  up  with  the  remainders 
for  Mrs.  Montmorency  at  the  head  of  the  table,  dis- 
pensing ice-cream  with  so  liberal  a  spoon  to  him  that 
there  was  none  left  on  the  dish  for  the  young  gentle- 
man occupying  the  middle  room  on  the  top  floor;  but 
to  this  that  young  gentleman  was  well  accustomed. 

Before  the  others  had  finished,  the  professor  and 
the  Hon.  Percy  were  compelled  to  leave,  as  the  cab 
arrived.  The  professor's  trunks,  two  very  large  and 
heavy  ones,  also  much  light  luggage,  were  put  on 
and  in.  Adieus  were  spoken ;  the  detective  got  in  first, 
urged  by  the  professor;  then  the  professor  got  in,  and 
they  sat  comfortably  together  side  by  side  in  the 

244 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

brougham  and  were  driven,  amid  much  conversation, 
agreeable,  if  irrelevant  to  the  plans  and  thoughts  of 
each,  to  the  pier  of  the  German  liner,  where,  owing 
to  a  string  of  carriages  and  cabs,  theirs  was  obliged 
to  wait  a  bit.  Another  electric  brougham  drew  up 
beside  the  Chinaman's.  In  it  sat  Upson.  He  had  a 
suit-case  and  a  large  tin  box  with  him. 

Jaffray  saw  Upson;  Upson  saw  Jaffray. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  the  Chinese.  "I  see  some  of  my 
friends — Doctor  Warren,  a  great  scientist;  Mr.  Part- 
ley,  Miss  Palmer,  Mrs.  Brockton — yes,  yes.  I  had 
also  wanted  to  have  my  most  dear  friend,  Reginald 
Stevens,  the  great  millionaire " 

"They  have  so  many  millionaires  here,"  laughed  the 
Englishman. 

"Yes,  but  you  will  learn  this  one  is  many,  many 
times  over  that.  Also  you  will  meet,  from  your  high 
position,  my  other  dear  friends,  the  Austins.  They 
could  not  come ;  they  mourn  the  sudden  demise  of  the 
father  of  Mr.  Austin." 

The  detective  sighed  in  propriety,  also  to  cloak  his 
private  recollections  of  how  he  had  helped  to  carry 
the  remains  of  Mr.  Austin  Senior  up  into  his  little 
granddaughter's  study,  not  so  very  long  ago. 

"Such  is  this  life,"  pursued  the  professor.  "Now 
we  alight.  So."  They  got  out,  and  in  a  few  mo- 

245 


ments,  while  stewards  were  depositing  the  professor's 
light  luggage  in  his  stateroom,  the  jolly  crowd  who 
had  come  to  bid  him  bon  voyage  were  taking  their 
champagne  in  the  saloon. 

The  detective  was  presented  to  them  all.  Primrose 
Palmer  immediately  made  eyes  at  him,  considering 
him  a  handsome  and  likely  godsend  wherewith  to  drive 
poor  Tommy  iPartley  into  still  deeper  distraction. 
Warren  took  to  the  young  Englishman  at  once;  re- 
gretted that  his  sister,  Mrs.  Austin,  was  just  thrown 
into  mourning  and  that  he  could  not,  therefore,  present 
him  to  her  now,  but  hoped  to  in  the  future,  when  she 
got  back. 

"Madam  Austin  goes  to  Europe,  also,  then?"  asked 
Struh-La.  "It  is  always  the  custom  of  the  Americans 
in  grief." 

"Not  to  Europe,"  replied  Warren.  "They  are  go- 
ing to  San  Francisco." 

Curiously  enough,  just  at  that  moment  there  had 
come  a  lull  in  the  fire  of  nonsense  and  laughter  in 
the  professor's  group;  the  words  "San  Francisco" 
sounded  out  clear,  sharp,  purposeful;  neither  the 
Chinese  nor  the  detective  made  any  sign,  but  there  was 
an  actual  gap. 

Primrose  Palmer's  merry  little  voice  stopped  it  up 
in  staccato  fashion;  she  said:  "Yes,  San  Francisco. 

246 


THE  FLAME   D'ANCER 

Wish  I  could  go  there  on  a  wedding  tour,"  with  a 
tender  glance  at  her  supposed  young  Englishman  and 
a  side  shot  at  poor  Tommy. 

"Seems  to  me  every  one  I  know  is  going  to  San 
Francisco,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brockton.  "I  had  a  note 
from  Bertha  Wilmerding  this  morning" — the  de- 
tective bent  a  vacuous  but  closely  deferential  face  to- 
ward the  matronly  speaker — "and  she's  going  to  San 
Francisco,  too!" 

"What  for?"  inquired  Primrose. 

"About  a  fortune  she's  inherited,  I  understand," 
was  the  answer. 

"Lucky  girl,"  sighed  Primrose.  "Lose  a  lover,  gain 
the  gold!" 

"Miss  Wilmerding  is  a  very  charming  young  lady," 
remarked  Struh-La.  "I  am  very  happy  she  has  good 
luck." 

The  eyes  of  the  Hon.  Percy  stole  a  glance  at  the 
Oriental,  but  the  yellow  man's  face  was  as  imperturb- 
able as  the  dragon  on  his  nation's  flag. 

It  would  soon  be  time  to  go  ashore.  The  bells 
rang,  the  officers  were  bustling  about,  there  were 
leave-takings,  sad  and  merry;  Struh-La's  friends 
drank  a  bumper,  and  Primrose  Palmer  and  the  Hon. 
Percy  had  really  quite  an  affecting  little  scene  all  to 
themselves,  with  a  promise  to  call  the  next  day  on  his 

247 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

side,  and  a  vast  deal  of  pretty  language  of  the  eyes 
on  hers.  They  had  left  their  extra  wraps  in  the  pro- 
f esssor's  stateroom ;  they  now  ran  there  to  fetch  them. 
The  detective  was  active  in  assisting  Miss  Primrose 
to  put  on  her  cloak.  Then  he  sought  his  own  In- 
verness, for  he  was,  of  course,  in  evening  dress;  it 
could  not  be  found,  neither  high  nor  low.  The  host 
was  distressed;  he  was  sure  no  one  had  been  in  the 
stateroom  except  himself!  Where  could  it  be?  It 
was  mortifying. 

"Nonsense,"  returned  the  Hon.  Percy,  who  felt  sure 
that  he  would  behold  his  Inverness  before  too  long. 
"Nonsense,  professor;  some  thievish  steward  with  a 
fancy  for  clothes.  I  don't  blame  the  rascal.  My  In- 
verness came  from  Poole  and  was  quite  fit.  Don't,  I 
beg,  think  of  it  again.  The  night  is  warm ;  I  will  take 
a  cab." 

"The  night  is  chilly,"  exclaimed  the  professor. 
"You  must  take  one  of  my  coats ;  but  I  insist ;  this  one 
from  Paris  is  not  bad ;  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of  Struh- 
La  until  we  meet  again." 

The  Hon.  Percy  invested  himself  in  the  top  coat 
of  the  Oriental  man,  his  whole  brain  laughing  with 
the  tang  of  the  situation. 

There  was  much  hand-shaking,  laughter,  the  jostle 
of  a  big,  merry  crowd;  then  they  all  trooped  over  the 

248 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

gangplank.  Struh-La  stood  at  the  rail,  waving  his 
adieus;  he  was  full  in  the  flare  of  the  bulbs  on  the 
dock;  he  saw  the  Englishman  jump  into  an  electric 
brougham  which,  immediately  he  spoke  to  the  chauf- 
feur, turned  like  a  flash  and  spun  furiously  up  the 
dock.  Then  as  the  last  of  his  whilom  guests  got  out 
of  sight,  Struh-La  turned,  not  waiting  to  see  that 
brougham  return,  and,  twisting  his  way  lithely 
through  the  surging  crowd  of  passengers,  he  darted 
to  the  saloon,  with  a  swift  glance  taking  in  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  one  there  but  a  sick  child  and  its 
anxious  mother;  crossed  to  his  stateroom,  unlocked  a 
small  trunk,  took  from  it  a  bag  of  black  buckskin 
which  he  tied  around  his  waist;  also  Jaffray's  In- 
verness, which  he  put  on;  also  a  wig  of  light-colored 
hair  and  a  pair  of  gold  eye-glasses.  He  pinned  a 
scrap  of  paper  on  the  pillow,  threw  a  hat  and  coat 
out  the  port-hole,  taking  care  to  leave  a  necktie  caught 
in  the  fastening,  and  then  went  serenely  on  deck  and 
down  the  plank. 

Two  cabs  were  on  the  end  of  the  dock.  The  one 
he  had  ordered,  and  another  of  which  the  curtains 
were  down,  at  least  the  curtain  on  this  side  was  down. 
A  young  man  whose  name  chanced  to  be  Upson  was 
standing  near  this  cab,  speaking  to  the  chauffeur.  Up- 
son regarded  Struh-La  carelessly.  He  saw  Jaffray's 

249 


THE  FLrAME  VANCER 

blue  Inverness;  he  knew  a  wig  when  he  saw  that,  too. 
Struh-La  paid  little  attention  to  this  gawky-looking 
young  man,  and  nimbly  sprang  into  his  electric  and 
was  promptly  whirled  away  without  a  word,  showing 
that  his  chauffeur  was  up  in  his  part. 

What  Upson  had  said  to  his  chauffeur  was  this: 

"Have  you  got  the  number  down  fine?" 

"Yes,  sir.    6072,  N.  Y." 

"Right.  Don't  lose  sight  of  him,  and  I'll  pay  you 
whatever  you  ask." 

"All  right,  sir.    Depend  on  me." 

Upson  got  in.  It  was  at  this  instant  that  Struh-La 
also  had  entered  his  cab.  No  sooner  was  6072  off 
than  89116  started,  too. 

Inside  No.  6072  Struh-La  held  the  black  skin  bag 
and  drew  the  detective's  Inverness  up  about  his  ears. 

Inside  No.  89116,  Jaffray  said:  "I  thought  he  would 
not  sail."  He  opened  the  tin  box,  set  up  the  two  tiny 
candles,  lighted  them,  supported  the  box  on  his  knees, 
jerked  down  the  second  curtain  of  the  cab,  took  off 
his  blond  wig,  wiped  his  face  free  of  the  light-haired 
Englishman's  make-up,  and  proceeded  to  transform 
himself  into  a  swarthy,  middle-aged  man — while  the 
vehicle,  meantime,  bumped  along  across  town. 

"What  if  he  had  stopped  aboard,  sir?"  asked  Up- 
son, steadying  the  box  with  one  hand  and  with  the 

250 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

other  taking  from  the  suit-case  a  jet-black  wig  worth; 
a  small  fortune  for  its  extreme  naturalness. 

"I  would  have  been  aboard,  too — a  belated  pas- 
senger." 

"But  he  would  have  seen  you." 

"Would  he?  I  think  not,"  retorted  Jaffray.  "I 
had  my  hand  on  this  grip  and  this  box,  my  boy;  I 
was  watching  him  as  a  cat  does  a  mouse,  and  I  saw 
'him  skip  as  soon  as  his  friends  were  on  land.  Then, 
if  he  had  not  returned,  I  would  have  boarded  the 
boat." 

"Suppose  he  had  stopped  right  there  until  she  pulled 
off,"  persisted  the  younger  man. 

"There  are  such  things,  lad,  as  money,  limitless 
money,  and  tugs;  you've  heard  of  'em,  haven't  you? 
how  they  occasionally  run  down  the  bay  after  ships 
with  belated  passengers?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Upson;  "beg  pardon,  sir,  had  you 
a  tug  in  commission?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  There!"  The  detective  adjusted 
the  black  wig  and  then  very  deftly  got  out  of  the 
Poole-made  garments  of  the  Hon.  Percy  and  into  the 
contents  of  the  suit-case,  which  proved  to  be  nothing 
less  than  the  full  regalia  of  a  Roman  Catholic  priest. 

Upson  stuffed  the  London  clothes  and  the  blond 
wig  into  the  suit-case,  locked  the  make-up  box,  took 

251 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

a  rosary  and  breviary  and  prayer-book  from  his  own 
pocket  and  put  them  in  the  detective's  pocket. 

"What's  your  name,  sir?"  he  now  asked  respect- 
fully. 

"Father  Decker,  Father  Thomas  Decker.  I'll  take 
you  for  a  god-parent,  Upson.  Keep  the  ticker  busy 
now.  So-long.  I'll  drop  you  here."  They  were  at 
the  5th  Avenue  Hotel,  and  he  motioned  the  chauffeur 
to  stop.  Upson  jumped  out  with  the  suit-case,  and 
Father  Thomas  Decker  proceeded  on  his  way,  his  man 
on  the  box  keeping  No.  6072  well  in  sight.  6072  did 
not  halt,  but  went  direct  to  42nd  Street,  through  to 
the  Grand  Central,  pulled  up,  and  Struh-La,  in  his 
rather  thin  but  adequate  disguise,  alighted.  89116 
pulled  up  there,  too,  just  behind  the  trap  it  had  so 
successfully  pursued.  Jaffray  handed  his  man  a  fifty- 
dollar  note. 

"Too  much !"  said  the  chauffeur. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  friend.  Get  away  now;  good 
luck  to  you!" 

The  Oriental  passed  in,  bought  a  ticket  and  berth; 
the  priest  did  the  same,  minus  the  berth;  and  when 
the  train  started  he  occupied  the  front  seat  in  the  day 
coach  just  behind  the  sleeper  in  which  Struh-La  had 
his  accommodations. 


252 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ACROSS   THE   CONTINENT 

REGGIE'S  ride  over  the  Rockies,  the  plains,  the 
desert,  was  a  dismal  experience.  At  Denver 
he  got  a  wire  from  Jaffray,  stating  that  the 
Chinese  man  had  not  sailed;  at  the  little  town  of 
Pueblo  Maria,  farther  on,  he  got  another,  stating  that 
both  Struh-La  and  the  detective  were  hurrying  West 
as  fast  as  wheels  could  fetch  them.  The  next  morn- 
ing, at  Salt  Lake,  he  opened  a  paper  to  read  among 
the  head-lines  this:  "Suicide  aboard  the  Konigin 
Luise.  Professor  Struh-La,  famous  Orientalist  and 
scientist  of  Peking  and  Paris,  throws  himself  over- 
board while  the  ship  lies  at  her  dock  on  the  eve  of 
sailing-day,  and  after  entertaining  his  friends  jovially. 
Note  pinned  to  his  stateroom  pillow  ascribes  rash  act 
to  disheartening  failure  of  scientific  experiments." 

"Why  had  not  Jaffray  wired  that  Struh-La  was 
dead?"  Jermyn  ventured  to  propound  this  to  his  em- 
ployer. 

"Probably  because  Struh-La  is  alive,"  was  the  la- 
conic answer.  "He  had  to  account  for  himself  to  the 

253 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

steamship  people  in  some  way,  and  suicide  was  the 
easiest  and  most  acceptable." 

"I  see !"  returned  the  other  man. 

Struh-La  was,  indeed,  very  much  alive.  He  had 
told  Luliani  that  he  would  join  her  at  Chicago,  but  he 
made  no  effort  to  do  so.  Instead,  he  frequently  de- 
layed his  progress  across  the  continent  by  leaving  his 
train,  wandering  about  any  city  where  he  chose  to  halt 
for  a  few  hours,  and  then  proceeding  westward,  some- 
times by  a  tedious  accommodation,  sometimes  by  the 
swiftest  express.  One  day  he  sat  midway  in  a  day 
coach,  the  place  beside  him  vacant.  Jaffray  decided 
to  try  his  own  nerve.  He  waited  until  the  train  was 
going  at  top  speed,  then  walked  down  the  aisle  and 
stopped  with  a  lurch,  his  hand  coming  down  so  heavily 
on  Struh-La's  shoulder  that  the  Oriental  did  glance 
up.  Otherwise  he  was  imperturbable. 

Jaffray  smiled  good-humoredly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  noting 
the  empty  seat  at  the  professor's  side.  "Seat  en- 
gaged?" 

Struh-La  shook  his  head  and  the  priest  sat  himself 
down  comfortably. 

"Seems  as  if  we  were  intended  to  be  near  each 
other;  wonderful  are  the  ways  of  Providence!"  re- 
marked the  priest,  in  a  suitable  tone. 

254 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

The  other  made  an  assenting  sound. 

"Don't  you  understand  English,  sir?" 

"I  am  some  English !"  was  the  half-indignant  reply. 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  now,  you  have  the  look  to  me 
of  the  far  East  I'm  Irish." 

"I  lived  in  the  East  for  many  years,  so  many  I  came 
to  be  regarded  as  a  native,"  returned  the  Oriental  in 
a  taciturn  way. 

"Easily,  easily,"  said  Father  Decker.  "Will  you 
look  at  a  paper?" 

"No,  I  thank  you,  I  don't  read  these  American 
newspapers." 

Jaffray  unfolded  the  damp  journal,  and  as  his  eyes 
fell  upon  the  identical  account  of  Struh-La's  suicide 
which  Reggie  Stevens  was  to  read  some  hours  later 
they  danced  beneath  the  brim  of  his  priestly  hat,  and, 
spreading  the  sheet  directly  and  widely  open  across 
Struh-La's  knees,  he  exclaimed : 

"Look  at  that,  now !  How  do  you,  sir,  being,  I  take 
it,  a  man  of  brains,  account  for  another  man  of  brains 
taking  his  own  life?" 

"Life,  what  is  it?"  answered  the  man  of  the  Orient, 
glancing  curiously  at  the  paper. 

"What  we  make  it.  I  knew  of  this  gentleman,  sir," 
tapping  the  name  of  Struh-La  in  its  five-inch  letters 

255 


at  the  top  of  the  page  still  lying  across  Struh-La's 
own  knees. 

"Yes?"  he  said  blandly. 

"Did  you  never  hear  of  him?" 

Struh-La  shook  his  head.  He  was  nettled,  angry, 
fierce.  When  an  Oriental  is  in  this  mood  he  is  as  if 
made  of  knives  with  their  sharp  edges  turned  out- 
ward and  willing  to  act.  His  was  a  nature,  too,  of  a 
most  exquisite  fineness,  which  vibrated  to  a  zephyr, 
and  the  reckless  daring  of  the  other  man  no  doubt 
subtly  communicated  itself  to  him.  He  was,  more- 
over, a  brave  personality,  not  at  all  a  coward.  He 
was  one  to  grasp  the  blade  without  counting  the  cost. 
Struh-La,  at  this  juncture,  turned  his  head  and  shot 
a  glance  of  incisive  reminiscence  clearly  up  into  the 
face  of  the  detective. 

"You  remind  me  of  some  one,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause;;  "yes,  sir,  you  do." 

"Of  whom,  may  I  ask?"  was  the  rejoinder;  and, 
if  the  pulses  of  the  Oriental  beat  a  quick  tune,  those 
of  the  Saxon  beat  a  quicker.  Each  of  his  kind  felt 
danger  and  relished  the  taste  of  it. 

"Of  a  young  English  gentleman.  Your  face  is 
very  like  his  in  the  outline.  A  much  younger  man. 
His  name  is  Percy  Saunders,  the  Hon.  Percy  Saun- 
ders."  Struh-La  spoke  with  deliberation. 

256 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

The  priest  laughed  aloud,  long  and  heartily — in 
fact,  laughter  broke  loose  all  through  his  reply  to  his 
traveling  companion. 

"That's  my  nephew,  sir!  Sure!  Do  you  think  he 
resembles  me  ?  My  own  sister's  son.  She  married  an 
English  gentleman,  and  he's  just  arrived  from  the  old 
country  in  New  York.  I've  been  there  now  to  bid 
him  welcome." 

"I  see!  I  see!"  Struh-La  let  the  newspaper  fall 
to  the  floor;  neither  one  picked  it  up.  "A  very  much 
fine  young  man." 

"I  think  so,  sir,  I  think  so.  Perhaps  I  ought  not — 
but  since  you  endorse  Percy!  Well,  well!"  The  de- 
tective here  burst  into  a  positive  guffaw  of  delight. 
"No  wonder  you  said  I  seemed  familiar  to  you.  May 
I  inquire  where  you  met  my  nephew,  sir?" 

"I  met  your  most  agreeable  nephew  in  New  York." 

"I  am  Thomas  Decker,  at  your  service,  sir;  I'm 
a  priest  of  the  Catholic  Church." 

"I  know,  I  know."  Struh-La  regarded  the  clerical 
garments  with  recognition  and  also  the  missal  sticking 
out  of  the  reverend  man's  pocket.  "Do  you  go  far- 
ther than  Salt  Lake,  Mr.  Decker?"  Struh-La  made 
the  inquiry  in  a  casual  way,  as  his  eye  appeared  to 
light  for  the  first  time  on  the  Salt  Lake  ticket  sticking 
in  the  religious  gentleman's  hat-band. 

257 


THE.  FLAME  DAN.CER 

"You'll  lose  me  at  Salt  Lake."  He  knew  he  should 
have  to  change  his  disguise  again  to  pay  for  his  en- 
tertainment. 

"Your  charge  is  there,  then?" 

"Yes,  it  is."  The  priest  inclined  his  head,  adding: 
"Do  you  go  on?" 

"A  few  miles,  to  a  ranch  I  own." 

"Yes,  yes,  a  fine  thing,  a  ranch,"  and  he  took  out 
his  missal  and  bent  his  gaze  upon  the  Latin  words, 
of  which  he  understood,  notwithstanding  his  Harvard, 
but  a  very  few. 

At  Salt  Lake  there  was  a  stop  of  an  hour.  Struh- 
La  spent  that  hour  without  being  watched  by  the 
detective,  returning  to  the  station  just  in  time  to  re- 
instate himself  in  the  Pullman  and  thence  to  crane  his 
neck  from  the  window  and  watch  for  a  priest.  He 
could  not  tell  just  why,  but  the  sense  of  possible  dis- 
covery and  danger  was  never  absent  from  him  long — 
just  as  a  detective  is  always  on  the  scent,  this  one  felt 
watchfulness  to  be  a  second  and  an  overmastering 
nature. 

Struh-La  saw  no  priest  get  on.  He  saw  many  other 
people.  Among  them  was  one  whom  he  did  not  at 
all  remark — a  large,  middle-aged,  whole-souled, 
shrewd,  self-made  man  of  the  West.  Dozens  of  them 
yvere  stirring  about  in  and  out  of  the  Salt  Lake  Depot, 

258 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

and  it  was  not  at  all  remarkable  that  Professor  Struh- 
La  should  not  have  singled  out  this  especial  member 
for  observation.  He  was  a  trifle  taller  than  most  of 
them,  his  cheeks  were  a  deeper  bronze  perhaps,  and 
his  moustache  and  pointed  beard  were  a  little  more 
grizzled.  When  it  came  to  clothes,  his  did  not  fit 
him  even  as  well  as  those  of  most  of  his  type;  trousers, 
frock  coat,  and  vest  hung  loosely  and  unacquaintedly 
over  his  big  body;  he  had  on  a  pink  shirt,  a  black 
string  tie,  no  cuffs,  a  diamond  shirt  pin,  of  course, 
and  he  carried  a  new,  large  grip.  He  was  a  fair  ex- 
emplification of  a  good-hearted  mining  man,  probably 
on  his  way  to  San  Francisco  to  spend  or  to  invest 
his  latest  pile.  Struh-La  did  not  even  see  him. 


259 


T.HE.  F.LAME  DANCER 


R 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   VANISHING   PLACE 

EGINALD  STEVENS  reached  San  Francisco 
between  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
He  learned  without  much  trouble  that  two 
Chinese  women  answering  the  description  he  was  able 
to  give  had  come  in  on  a  train  ten  minutes  ahead  of 
him.  He  ordered  Jermyn  into  one  cab  and  to  take 
a  certain  route  to  Chinatown;  getting  into  another 
himself  and  telling  his  man  it  would  be  worth  any 
sum  he  chose  to  name  if  he  succeeded  in  getting  him 
also  to  Chinatown  by  another  route,  in  time  to  catch 
up  with  a  cab  containing  two  women  in  Chinese  garb. 
Like  a  smaller  Paris,  San  Francisco  never  goes  to 
bed;  the  saloons  were  every  one  open.  As  the  cab 
rushed  past  their  glare  and  clink,  the  passenger's  face 
was  wan,  haggard,  drawn.  Would  or  would  he  not 
attain  her  before  she  should  be  enmeshed  in  the  in- 
calculable labyrinth  called  Chinatown?  He  had  Jaf- 
f ray's  last  despatch  in  his  pocket.  It  read:  "I  have 
my  man  in  sight."  That  was  all,  and  he  was  left  to 
wonder  whether  the  detective,  or  Struh-La,  or  both, 

260 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

had  arrived,  or  would  arrive  about  now.  With  the 
glitter  of  the  streets  and  the  chatter  of  the  people 
— just  now  he  was  rattling  past  the  "Golden  Dog" 
— there  came,  smiting  him  softly,  the  mist  from  the 
untamed,  the  mysterious  Pacific :  to  his  ear  the  chimes 
from  the  Mission  Dolores,  to  his  eye  the  wooden 
cross  against  the  opal  bosom  of  the  sky;  yonder,  be- 
low the  shoulder  of  |the  hill,  the  magic  bay,  the 
Golden  Gate  that  harbored  in  its  tantalizing  reach 
strange  craft  from  nearly  the  whole  world.  He  saw 
them  with  straining  eyes,  creeping  through  the  haze : 
brigs  with  their  cargos  of  copra,  the  fanlike  sails  o£ 
the  junks;  old  whalers  shining  with  oil;  weather- 
stained  windjammers  back  from  the  Horn;  the  lateen 
rigs  of  the  Neapolitan  fishermen,  the  pleasure-craft 
of  the  rich;  saw,  nearer,  the  old  Plaza.,  about  which 
the  original  first  city  had  been  built.  Then,  with  a 
dash,  he  knew,  he  had  been  this  way  before — that  he 
was  nearing  his  goal,  for  here  was  the  "Barbary 
Coast,"  that  scrap  torn  from  Hell  and  patched  on  one 
side  of  the  old  Plaza,  with  the  Latin  and  Chinese 
quarters  on  the  other.  The  blocks  were  solid  flare  for 
the  delectation  of  the  Jackies  of  every  land.  At  that 
hour,  ten  minutes  after  three,  the  blaze  was  as  brilliant 
as  midday  in  July;  the  doors  with  their  modifying 
screens  stood  open,  the  music,  tempestuous,  with  pulse 

261 


XHE  FLAME   DANCER 

and  rhythm  rang  out;  there  was  flutter  of  skirts,  feet, 
arms,  women;  silence  of  men;  gaiety  of  youth  and 
sin;  swish  of  the  barkeeper's  liquid;  laughter,  oaths, 
quarrels,  dancing,  kisses,  fights.  Hark!  a  pistol-shot, 
a  scream  of  terror,  a  shriek  of  death;  one  door  where 
the  lights  went  out,  and  whence  a  dark  form  shuffled 
and  sprang  red-handed  into  the  swallow  of  the  gray- 
green  fog  of  the  sea.  Reggie's  cab,  at  its  mad  pace, 
dashed  after  the  shuffling  form  into  Dupont  Street, 
into  Chinatown.  The  driver  lifted  the  lid  above  his 
passenger's  head. 

"I  think  that's  them,  sir,"  he  said. 

A  cab  was  ahead  of  them,  a  hansom  also,  and  from 
the  side  there  hung  out,  between  the  join  of  the  door, 
a  bit  of  blue  cloth  —  the  blue  that  Oriental  women 


wear. 
" 


Go  on,"  said  Stevens,  and  the  block  that  separated 
the  two  vehicles  was  nearly  covered  when  the  hansom 
ahead  stopped  suddenly;  the  doors  lapped  back;  a 
woman,  a  large,  stout  woman,  got  out.  Stevens 
leaped  to  the  pavement  two  hundred  feet  from  the 
object  of  his  pursuit  and  ran  covertly,  with  the  fog 
painting  his  presence  out;  ran  as  the  living  run  when 
fire  trips  their  heels.  He  saw  the  younger  woman 
alight;  yes,  now  he  was  within  a  few  steps  of  her; 
the  wind,  up-blown  from  the  sea,  took  back  the  veils 

262 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

from  her  face,  the  flicker  of  the  lamps  shone  on  its 
exquisite  outlines ;  the  Chinese  woman  grasped  her  by; 
the  arms  and  thrust  her  under  a  huddling  balcony; 
he  sprang  out  of  the  mists  to  reach  her;  a  sharp  cry; 
rang,  the  like  of  which  he  had  never  heard;  in  the 
flash  of  an  eye  a  seething  mass  bubbled  up  from  the 
alleys,  the  passageways,  the  gutters,  the  windows, 
doors — coolies  chattering  like  enraged  monkeys — and 
into  this  whirlpool  of  living  beings  she  was  sucked. 
But  Reggie  stumbled  on  amid  the  army  of  lean,  yel- 
low arms  that  delayed,  but  forbore  to  touch  him. 
He  still  beheld  Luliani  in  front  of  him.  There!  in 
a  second  more  he  must  reach  her.  The  lanterns 
showed  him  to  her  just  on  the  edge  of  this  swarming 
horde  of  saffron  serpents.  Why  could  he  not  make 
headway?  He  would.  With  a  lunge  he  broke  the 
brood,  and,  sweeping  over  them  as  they  scattered, 
some*  of  them  under  his  very  feet,  his  eyes  met  hers, 
his  hand  was  on  her  garment,  when  both  she  and  the 
old  Chinese  woman  vanished  into  the  bosom  of  the 
earth. 

And  all  the  yellow  shoal  slunk  back  into  their  nest; 
and  the  gaudy  lanterns  swung  in  the  breeze  of  the 
dawn,  and  the  gray-green  mists  of  the  magical  ocean 
lifted  into  the  sunrise;  the  matting  doors  closed;  and 
the  bamboo  shutters  drew  in;  and  the  chickens  began 

263 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

to  run  about  and  the  roosters  to  crow  as  Stevens 
turned  back  to  the  hansom.  He  had  seen  her,  touched 
her  raiment;  he  was  a  man  of  great  strength,  deter- 
mination, and  character,  with  much  money  at  com- 
mand; he  loved  her  as,  he  thought,  man  had  never 
loved  woman  before;  he  could  do  nothing.  Law  is 
a  curious  thing — easily  broken  so  often,  entirely  un- 
breakable at  other  times.  He  stood  impotent,  the  law 
not  on  his  side.  The  facts  were  on  his  side,  but  facts 
as  against  law  do  not  count.  Beyond  all  there  stared 
the  insistent  fact  that  Luliani  had  not  responded  to  his 
attempt  at  her  rescue.  In  her  meeting  of  his  eyes  no 
sense  of  recognition  or  gladness,  merely  passivity. 
But  she  was  drugged  by  the  occult  power  of  Struh- 
La.  Where  was  Struh-La?  Could  he  at  a  great  dis- 
tance thus  mold  her  to  his  will?  But  was  he  at  a 
great  distance?  Where  might  he  not  be  at  this  mo- 
ment? In  San  Francisco  itself.  He  was  standing  in 
hesitation  on  the  narrow  sidewalk  when  Jermyn  came 
briskly  toward  him.  He  had  left  his  cab  around  the 
corner,  and  now  motioned  Mr.  Stevens  to  send  his 
there,  too,  which  was  done. 

"Any  news,  sir?"  asked  Jermyn. 

Stevens  told  him. 

"Bad,"  he  assented;  "that  place  is  like  a  bees'  nest 
on  the  crater  of  a  volcano — nothing's  ever  taken  out 

264 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

of  it,  and  many  things  and  people  dropped  in.  There's 
a  chance  for  us,  if  you'll  wait  a  few  minutes,  sir?" 

"I'll  wait.    What's  the  chance?" 

"A  tourist-party  coming  through  now;  there  they 
are!"  as  several  omnibuses,  full  mostly  of  women, 
with  a  sprinkling  of  elderly  men,  halted,  and  the  oc- 
cupants descended  to  the  street  under  the  supervision 
of  a  guide  to  the  quarter.  "We  can  easily  join  it." 

"Very  well." 

Jermyn  went  and  spoke  to  the  guide.  It  was  quickly 
settled  with  a  little  money.  There  were  perhaps  fifty 
in  the  party,  and  among  them  there  chanced  to  be 
the  Western  miner  whom  Struh-La  had  not  noticed 
on  the  station  platform  at  Salt  Lake.  His  adroit  eyes 
seemed  to  fall  upon  Stevens  and  Jermyn  by  instinct. 
As  they  stepped  up  to  join  the  group  of  sightseers, 
this  man  advanced  to  meet  them.  They  both  re- 
garded him  with  indifference  and  were  mingling  with 
the  string  of  people,  responsive  to  the  guide's  loud- 
voiced  marshaling,  when  the  miner  said  in  a  low  tone 
to  both  men:  "Get  out  of  here  quick  and  hide  your 
faces  as  you  go,  if  you  can." 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  Stevens  asked,  in  an 
abrupt,  irritated  way. 

The  miner  spoke  in  his  ear. 

265 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Stevens  answered  him,  motioned  to  Jermyn,  and 
they  both  dropped  out  of  the  party  to  see  Chinatown, 
pulled  their  hats  over  their  faces,  and  got  back  to 
their  waiting  cabs,  thence  to  the  Palace  Hotel.  It 
was  indeed  amazing  with  what  apparent  willingness 
Stevens  obeyed  any  one's  lead.  The  man  who  had 
all  his  life  been  a  dictator  now  appeared  to  be  only  a 
follower.  "That  was  Jaffray,"  he  told  Jermyn.  "He 
says  Struh-La  is  coming  here.  I  told  him  Miss  de 
Fontanges  was  there.  He  says  to  leave  it  to  him 
now.  So  go  away.  Do  what  you  like." 

Stevens  read  the  newspaper.  He  took  a  Turkish, 
smoked,  ate.  Engaged  a  suite  of  rooms.  Accident- 
ally heard  that  the  Austins  had  wired  for  accommoda- 
tions at  the  same  house.  Bought  a  novel  and  threw 
it  aside.  He  thought  only  of  Struh-La.  He  did  find 
a  lawyer.  Consulted  him,  only  to  learn  that  he  could 
not  in  any  way  obtain  the  girl,  save  by  strategy. 
Then  he  walked  to  the  shore,  hired  a  boat,  and  rowed 
himself  out  upon  the  bosom  of  the  emerald-soft  sea, 
worked  at  the  oars  until  the  sweat  stood  on  his  face, 
until  his  hands  were  sore,  until  his  bones  ached. 
When  he  pulled  in  to  land,  the  boatman  compassion- 
ated him,  and  said:  "Will  I  call  a  carriage  for  you, 
sir?" 

"No.  Let  me  lie  down  on  the  floor  of  your  boat- 

266 


THE  FL~AME   D'ANCER 

shed,  will  you?"  He  gave  the  man  money,  and  he 
saw  only  in  his  mind  the  face  of  Struh-La. 

"Yes,  of  course,  as  long  as  you  like,  sir;  but  it's 
hard." 

"I  want  it  hard." 

"Something  to  eat,  sir?" 

"No." 

"Drink?" 

"No." 

The  boatman  crossed  to  his  own  shanty;  but  every 
now  and  then  he  looked  over  at  the  boat-house,  and 
between  the  stacks  of  his  fish-poles  he  could  see  the 
prostrate  form  lying  on  the  floor. 

This  was  while  the  man  from  headquarters  was 
forming  one  of  the  tourist-party  to  see  the  far-famed 
Chinatown  of  San  Francisco. 

The  mining  man  seemed  to  take  it  in  with  the  zest 
of  youthful  curiosity;  he  jested  with  all  the  ladies, 
and  had  not  only  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  good 
humor,  but  an  equally  large  stock  of  good  cigars, 
which  he  distributed  with  a  lavish  hand  among  his 
fellow  travelers  and  all  the  Chinese  he  encountered. 
His  head  was  always  on  the  alert,  this  way  and  that, 
back  of  him  and  forward.  Presently  he  saw  Struh- 
La  entering  the  precinct.  The  party  had  not  come 
far,  for  they  had  lingered  in  the  little  alleys  where 

267 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

the  slave-girls  bobbed  in  their  bamboo  balconies  in 
the  make-believe  Chinatown  that  the  Chinese  long  ago 
learned  to  prepare  for  the  white- face  tourists — the  real 
Chinatown  lay  somewhere  else.  It  was  to  this  real 
Chinatown  that  Jaffray  meant  to  penetrate,  if  he 
could.  He  inquired  of  the  guide,  who  pooh-poohed 
the  existence  of  any  Chinatown  more  extraordinary 
than  the  one  he  led  his  clients  through.  Struh-La 
came  trotting  along  just  at  the  moment,  and  the  de- 
tective stepped  in  front  of  him  with  a  breezy  swing 
of  his  brawny,  uncuffed  hand.  Take  any  man's  hand 
and  rob  it  of  its  cuff,  and  it  looks  a  bit  unrecognizable. 

The  Chinese  stopped  short  and  looked  up. 

"Pard!"  exclaimed  the  detective.  "Saw  you  on  the 
cyars  'long  back.  Knew  you  for  a  high  class.  Want 
to  know  now  if  you  can't  let  me  see  a  little  of  your 
real  thing;  none  of  this!"  He  cast  a  disdainful  eye 
at  the  slave  ladies  basketed  in  their  bamboo  cages. 

Struh-La  shook  his  head  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders quite  in  the  European  way. 

"Pshaw,  now;  yes,  you  do!"  persisted  the  miner. 
"You're  the  genuine  article,  you  are,  pard;  and  so  am 
I!  I'm  from  Arizona,  I  am.  Got  spondulicks  to 
burn  and  want  to  see — things." 

Still  Struh-La  was  silent  as  they  paced  on. 

"Speak  up,"  urged  the  miner,  who  by  this  time 

268 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

found  himself  rather  alone  with  the  professor,  as  tfie 
guide,  disgusted  by  the  digression  of  this  particular 
tourist,  had  conveyed  his  band  swiftly  farther  up  one 
of  the  darkest  alleys  of  the  place. 

"Speak  up.  I'm  a  decent  sort  of  a  feller.  Want 
you  to  dine  with  me  to-day  at  the  Palace.  Taken 
a  fancy  to  you;  but  I've  got  my  price,  like  every  other 
man — I  want  to  win  a  bet."  The  miner  laughed 
heartily,  and  the  Chinese  man  stood  stock-still. 

"Yep.  I  bet  I'd  get  into  Simon-pure  Chinatown — 
down,  down."  He  pointed  to  the  ground  beneath  their 
feet  with  his  index-finger. 

"There's  no  such  place,  my  friend,"  said  Struh-La, 
with  a  smile. 

"No?"  ejaculated  the  miner.  "Hev  I  lost  one  thou- 
sand dollars  on  the  blamed  thing?"  Struh-La  took 
a  few  steps  toward  a  bit  of  pavement  that  had  already 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  man  from  headquarters. 
It  was  a  square  of  fawn-colored  mosaic  work  of  a 
most  labyrinthine  pattern,  like  all  the  pavement  of  the 
court  in  which  they  stood.  It  was  also  dirty,  and 
scattered  over  with  scraps  of  the  burnt  paper  prayers 
blown  from  the  open  door  of  the  joss-house  at  one 
side,  but  differing  from  the  rest  of  the  pavement  a 
little  in  color.  It  also  bore  another  distinction :  about 
the  edges  of  its  square  it  had  the  appearance  of  hav- 

269 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

ing  been  lately  moved.  As  the  lynx  eye  of  Jaffray 
Could  perceive  no  marks  of  repair  work,  nor  any  ap- 
parent cause  for  its  having  been  stirred,  he  reached 
conclusions  at  once. 

"Well,  I  swear!  You're  talkin'  straight  now,  ain't 
you?" 

The  Chinese  nodded. 

"You're  high  class,  ain't  you?  Traveled  East,  I 
reckon?  Been  educated?  Shouldn't  wonder  'f  you 
was  a  missionary  among  your  own  people,  eh?" 

Struh-La  bowed  in  seeming  meekness. 

"Say  now,  come  and  eat  dinner  with  me,  will  you? 
I've  taken  a  shine  to  you.  My  name's  Jim  McAlpin. 
I  hold  out  at  the  Palace,  and  I  can  pay  for  all  you 
can  eat — and  drink.  Shake!"  He  put  out  his  hand. 
Struh-La  took  it. 

"Never  met  a  real  high-class  Oriental  before,  pard, 
and  you  must  excuse  me  if  I'm  suddint;  always  been 
so  sence  I  was  born — suddint  Well,  it's  a  bargain? 
To-night,  at  six,  eh?" 

"I  thank  you  very  much;  if  it's  possible,  I  come. 
I  have  very  much  business." 

"Savin'  souls?"  The  miner  laughed.  "Come  on 
and  save  mine!  Well,  so-long,  pard.  I  say,  now, 
what's  your  name?"  He  stopped,  as  at  this  juncture 

270 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

Stnih-La  stood  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  mosaic 
block. 

"Ah  Fong,"  replied  the  Chinaman  quickly.  "I 
come.  Goo-by." 

"Good-by,  pard."  The  detective  squared  around, 
decidedly  turning  his  back  upon  the  Chinese,  and 
walked  toward  the  street. 

There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  place  save  a  slight 
rumble  as  if  from  below  in  the  earth.  With  the  alert- 
ness of  a  tiger,  McAlpin  now  turned  his  head.  He 
beheld  a  little  cloud  of  dust  and  the  top  of  Struh-La's 
cap  vanishing  beneath  the  disturbed  block  of  mosaic; 
the  head  of  the  Chinese  once  out  of  sight,  the  stone 
quickly  revolved  into  its  place  again,  with  no  sign 
save  a  thicker  rim  of  dust  about  its  edges  where  they 
dovetailed  into  their  neighbors. 

The  detective  now  retraced  his  steps,  as  if  he  had 
lost  something,  searching  the  ground  for  the  benefit 
of  such  watchful  eyes  as  might  be  reconnoitering  from 
the  little  balconies.  He  went  back  as  far  as  the  fawn 
mosaic  square  carefully,  but  not  apparently,  marking 
its  exact  location.  Then  he  seemed  to  find  a  silver 
pencil  on  the  ground  and  rejoined  the  tourist-party. 
He  stayed  with  them  for  a  time,  and  then  he  went 
to  the  Palace,  where  Stevens  was  putting  up,  as  he 
supposed.  Jermyn  met  him  down-stairs.  Jaffray  sent 

271 


T.HE   FLAME  DANCER 

Jermyn  on  a  private  errand;  it  had  to  do  with  a 
woman;  the  woman  was  Bertha  Wilmerding.  He  had 
not  been  able  to  get  her  out  of  his  mind  in  even  the 
most  exciting  moments  of  his  transcontinental  trip. 
He  was  possessed  with  a  very  great  longing  to  see  this 
girl  again.  He  knew  she  was  due  in  San  Francisco, 
and  he  did  not  resist  the  impulse  which  had  him  in 
its  grip  to  find  out  where  she  was  stopping,  if  she 
had  come.  This,  then,  as  he  had  nothing  else  for  him 
to  do,  was  the  business  upon  which  Jaffray  sent  Jer- 
myn out  that  night.  Then  he  went  up  to  Stevens' 
rooms,  but  Stevens  was,  of  course,  not  there. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FORTY   FEET    UNDER   THE   GROUND 

WHEN  the  fawn-colored  mosaic  turned  in  obe- 
dience to  the  will  of  Struh-La,  it  revealed 
a  yawning  chasm,  lighted  dully;  steps  cut 
in  the  solid  rock,  down  which  the  Chinaman  crouched 
as  the  mechanical  device  that  governed  the  stone  re- 
fixed  it  in  its  position.  The  moment  his  head  had 
disappeared  from  Jaffray's  view,  the  moment  the  mo- 
saic stone  was  back  in  its  wonted  place,  the  dull  light 
grew  brilliant.  One  could  see  the  exquisite  spiral 
stairway  cut  out  of  the  rock,  its  rail  of  iron  and  bam- 
boo, its  lanterns,  gleaming  electricity  jeweled  into 
sapphires,  rubies,  emeralds  by  the  stain  of  the  glass. 
The  Chinaman  slipped  down  the  first  flight,  ten  feet, 
to  a  large  platform  hewn,  too,  from  the  rock,  and 
spread  with  mattings;  from  this  platform  six  alley- 
ways diverged ;  literally  streets,  with  huddling  houses, 
jutting  verandas,  projecting  windows,  quaint  signs; 
bloused  and  trousered  women  pattering  back  and 
forth;  restaurants,  joss-houses,  a  theater,  bazaars, 
fish-markets,  all  the  teeming  antlike  life  of  the  Ori- 

273 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

entals,  whose  nature  it  is  to  burrow  when  they  inhabit 
the  white  man's  land. 

Struh-La  paused  at  this  first  landing,  then  resumed 
his  downward  path,  for  the  spiral  staircase  wound  on 
to  lower  and  yet  lower  depths,  beneath  the  Chinatown 
of  guides  and  tourists,  to  the  actual  place  where  men 
of  Asia  live  their  own  lives  without  dread  of  the 
upper  world.  Arrived  at  the  second  landing,  twelve 
feet  farther  down,  the  same  arrangement  of  six 
spreading  passageways  was  apparent,  with  the  dif- 
ference that  the  mattings,  lanterns,  signs,  architecture 
were  all  of  a  better  grade;  the  curtains  at  these  case- 
ments were  fine  silk,  the  flowers  in  the  jars  were  real 
flowers;  the  cats  were  sleek  as  they  slept  in  the  cor- 
ners; the  tortoises  were  fat  as  they  crawled.  The 
women  wore  expensive  jewels  and  embroidered 
sacques ;  airs  of  bustling  prosperity  reigned  here ;  bro- 
cade-clad merchants  hurried  about  in  their  distinctive 
skull-caps;  coolies  swarmed,  their  baskets  hanging  on 
poles,  their  hand-carts  and  blue  bags  filled  with  mer- 
chandise. There  was  chatter,  glitter,  the  vivid  life  of 
a  real  street  in  a  real  city. 

Struh-La  nodded  to  some  man  whom  he  encoun- 
tered on  the  plaza;  then  pursued  his  way  down  the 
last  flight,  fourteen  feet  more  of  the  beautiful  cork- 
screw staircase  cut  out  of  the  rock,  and  arrived  at  the 

274 


THE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 

third  open  place.  It  was  broader  than  the  other  two, 
the  lanterns  shed  a  mellower  radiance,  the  six  alleys 
wound  away,  dreamy,  fantasmic  honeycombs,  with  the 
golden  light  tempered  as  if  the  wonderful  gray- 
green  mists  of  the  Pacific  had  been  sucked  into  this 
bosom  of  the  earth  to  cast  their  strange  alluring  halo. 
There  were  no  bazaars  here,  no  markets;  white  par- 
oquets shrieked  in  gilded  cages,  coolies  cooked  dainty 
messes  on  braziers.  Women  were  everywhere — em- 
broidering; playing  dominoes;  playing  with  children; 
squatting  on  mats  at  their  doorways  and  oiling  their 
hair;  painting  their  cheeks  and  lips  and  eyes  and  fin- 
gers; eating;  listening  to  the  beat  of  drums,  the 
striking  of  cymbals,  and  the  twang  of  stringed,  bar- 
baric instruments.  From  the  latticed  windows  of  a 
joss-house  came  the  tinkle  of  bells  musical  as  living 
waters  rushing  to  the  sea;  curling  clouds  of  blue  in- 
cense smoke;  the  ashes  of  the  paper  prayers.  There 
were  but  few  men  to  be  seen. 

Struh-La  stood  still  and  breathed  with  delight  To 
him,  with  all  his  veneer  of  white  civilization,  white 
learning,  and  white  dissipation,  this  alone  gave  enjoy- 
ment; the  mystery  and  the  safety  of  it,  forty  feet  un- 
derground; this  acme  of  the  burrowing  instinct  was 
delectable.  There  was  no  change  of  expression  on  his 
face,  but  presently  he  turned  into  one  of  the  alley- 

275 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

ways  and  traversed  its  length.  This  was  six  blocks, 
the  extent  of  both  the  upper  and  under  Chinatown 
of  San  Francisco.  At  the  end  he  scratched  with  his 
finger-nails  on  a  certain  door;  it  was  opened  by  Woo 
Fong.  Struh-La  wasted  no  remark  upon  this  woman, 
but  walked  into  the  courtyard,  which  was  charmingly 
pretty,  with  birds  hopping  about  as  far  as  the  silken 
cords  tied  to  their  legs  would  allow  them;  one  of 
these  had  choked  itself  with  its  skein  in  an  endeavor, 
perhaps,  to  be  free!  Struh-La  stopped  to  kick  it  out 
of  his  path  and  to  point  it  out  with  a  frown  to  Woo 
Fong.  She  picked  it  up,  terrified,  and  hid  it  in  her 
sacque.  There  were  flowers,  a  fountain  with  gold- 
fishes, from  without  one  heard  the  strike  of  cymbals 
and  the  throb  of  lutes. 

Struh-La  said  to  the  old  woman:  "Bring  her  to 
me." 

Woo  Fong  went  away  and  came  back.  "She  will 
not  come." 

Struh-La  said:  "Bring  me  the  harp." 

The  Chinese  woman  brought  it.  She  had  forgotten 
the  dead  bird  in  the  sling  of  her  sacque.  The  harp 
was  heavy,  the  bird  fell  at  Struh-La's  feet.  He  re- 
ceived the  harp,  and  this  time  indicating  the  choked 
bird  with  his  foot,  he  also  touched  Woo  Fong  as  she 
stooped  to  pick  it  up.  She  went  away,  and  her  master 

276 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

sat  on  the  edge  of  the  fountain  basin  and  played  on 
his  harp  just  as  he  had  played  on  Betty  Austin's  harp. 
Struh-La  had  learned  how  to  play  in  Berlin,  at  a  great 
conservatory,  where  the  teachers  all  said  he  had  fin- 
gers fit  for  any  sort  of  delicate  manipulation.  In  any 
event,  he  now  drew  from  the  strings  of  the  harp  a 
strange  and  compelling  melody;  not  at  all  like  any- 
thing Western,  nor  yet  those  airs  of  Asia,  Africa, 
which  we  know  and  succumb  to,  some  of  us;  but  a 
rarer  thing,  a  music  with,  so  to  speak,  a  brain  to 
it — thought,  not  sense;  mind  as  well  as  heart. 

The  music  of  the  Orient,  rarely  if  ever  heard  by 
alien  ears,  is  a  music  possessing  the  intellectual  quality 
which  is  not  inherent  in  music  anywhere  else — al- 
though it  is  true  some  people  claim  it  for  some  of  the 
white  people's  composers.  Struh-La  played  on,  his 
slant  eyes  fixed  upon  one  of  the  bamboo  screens  which 
led  into  an  adjoining  apartment.  The  little  birds 
hopped  up  close  to  his  feet  to  listen,  the  golden  fishes 
in  the  pool  ceased  from  darting  about ;  the  gray  mon- 
keys in  their  wicker  cage  remained  motionless  and 
solemn;  the  patter  of  footsteps  and  the  sound  of  voices 
without  in  the  alleyway  ceased;  people  were  listening. 
Then  the  bamboo  screen  trembled,  was  moved  aside, 
and  Luliani  walked  in.  She  was  dressed  in  the 
Chinese  fashion  in  trousers,  blouse,  and  a  long  outer 

277 


sacque  of  pale  pink  silk,  embroidered  with  peacock's 
feathers  of  gold  thread,  and  dragons  of  blue.  Her 
bearing  was  not  unconscious,  but  proud;  quite  fear- 
less. The  harp  spoke,  said:  "Nearer."  Struh-La 
uttered  no  sound.  She  came  close  up  to  him,  and  said : 
"Well?" 

"You  are  not  afraid?"  he  asked. 

"No." 

"Woo  Fong  has  been  good  to  you?" 

"Yes." 

"I  am  patient." 

She  glanced  at  him  inquiringly. 

"I  wait  for  you  to  say  you  are  ready  to  be  my 
wife.  Then,  as  I  told  you  in  New  York,  we  will 
have  it  performed  by  the  ministers  of  your  religion, 
safely." 

Still  the  girl  said  nothing. 

"I  arrived  only  to-day,"  he  pursued.  "I  have  not 
been  followed;  in  fact,  I  killed  myself,  committed 
suicide  on  board  the  ship  I  was  supposed  to  be  sailing 
on.  Some  of  the  jewels  are  here."  He  stopped 
playing  now,  and,  lifting  his  coat,  he  untied  from  his 
waist  a  black  buckskin  bag,  loosened  the  string. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  to  her. 

She  sat  down  on  the  stone  ledge  of  the  fountain 
basin,  and  he  emptied  the  contents  of  the  black  buck- 

278 


THE  FL'AME   D'ANCER 

skin  bag  in  her  lap.  It  contained  many  of  the  Aus- 
tin and  Stevens  jewels. 

Struh-La  hung  the  strings  and  chains  of  gems 
around  her  neck,  he  pinned  the  brooches  in  her  sacque ; 
he  stuck  the  ornaments  in  the  braids  of  her  hair, 
clasped  the  bracelets  on  her  arms,  set  the  tiara  on  her 
brow.  Then  he  said : 

"Her  hair  is  blacker  than  any  deep  part  of  the  dark- 
est night;  her  eyes  shine  with  the  luster  of  the  moon's 
beams;  her  lips  are  like  the  petals  of  the  poppy- 
flower;  her  breath  like  the  opium  which  steals  man 
and  carries  him  to  Elysium." 

The  girl  made  no  reply. 

Struh-La  leaned  nearer  to  her,  the  peculiar  light  in 
his  eyes  which  women  and  men  alike  had  felt  and 
succumbed  to. 

Then  she  spoke.  "There  were  more?"  Her  voice 
sounded  weary. 

Struh-La  nodded.  "Yes,  there  were,  of  course, 
more.  But  all  these  you  are  to  keep;  they  are  yours." 

She  shook  her  head,  shuddered  a  little,  and  moved 
uneasily  on  the  stone  ledge.  "Let  me  go,  let  me  go !" 
she  pleaded,  gathering  the  jewels  from  her  head,  arms, 
and  neck  and  casting  them  to  him.  She  suddenly  felt 
strong,  capable;  she  was  sure  he  could  not  have  fur- 
ther dominion  over  her.  Was  it  because  at  this 

279 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

moment   Struh-La's  whole   soul  was  centered   upon 
Reginald  Stevens'  subjection? 

Presently  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon  her  forehead, 
his  hands  making  rectangular  motions  before  her;  he 
lulled  her  will  once  more  into  acquiescence.  She 
gathered  the  jewels  back  into  her  keeping  and  listened 
while  he  talked  on;  she  looked  with  intelligence  and 
interest.  This  pleased  him.  Her  intellect  was  what 
he  controlled,  and  any  indication  of  it  suited  and  in- 
toxicated him. 

"I  have  all  the  money  we  can  need." 

"Yes,"  she  assented,  "of  course,  and  you  have  the 
jewels,  too." 

Struh-La  responded:  "Listen  to  me.  You  are  my- 
self; to  you  I  can  say  almost  all  things.  I  have  one 
part  of  the  jewels  only." 

Luliani  looked  at  him  quickly.  "Did  I  not  take 
them  all?"  She  rose  and  her  tone  was  one  of  pro- 
found surprise. 

Struh-La  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 

"Did  I  not  take  them — I?"  she  cried  out,  inspired 
by  a  peculiar  expression  on  his  face,  and  her  voice 
was  full  of  joy  and  relief. 

Struh-La  again  shook  his  head  slowly,  as  if  per- 
haps to  please  her. 

"Who  took  them?"  Luliani  gasped. 

280 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Struh-La  answered:  "No  one  took  them."  He 
laughed  then,  and  the  girl  turned  away,  disheartened 
at  what  she  considered  his  levity. 

"But  they  are  all  gone  from  Mrs.  Austin?"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  he  replied  quietly. 

"Where" — she  hesitated  an  instant — "are  the  flame 
stones  ?" 

Struh-La  grasped  her  sacque,  and  in  a  tone  as  sweet 
as  the  throb  of  his  harp  answered:  "The  flame  opals 
are  in  my  reach.  Stevens  and  his  detective  Jaffray 
will  never  recover  them.  Some  one  is  keeping  them 
for  me  until  the  right  moment.  Stevens  expected  to 
give  them  to  you.  They  will  be  yours,  all  but  one 
that  goes  back  to  the  East,  but  Stevens  will  never  see 
them  again;  he  will  never  see  you  again,  Luliani; 
you  are  my  woman,  never  his." 

She  swayed  a  little  on  her  stone  seat. 

She  was  perfectly  conscious ;  her  mind  was  on  Regi- 
nald Stevens — love,  honesty,  womanliness — but  she 
swayed  to  this  man  and  could  not  regrasp  her  own 
mentality,  the  mystery  perhaps  of  the  fourth  dimension 
held  her  in  its  bondage. 

"By  and  by  we  will  sail  for  Honolulu,  Woo  Fong 
and  you*  I  will  follow  on  another  ship.  Do  not  rebel, 
it  is  useless.  Besides,  take  pleasure  in  this;  it  is  a 

281 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

magnificent  delight  to  have  more  wit  than  others  and 
to  use  it.  I  could  not  live  without  the  supremacy  of 
my  will.  Come  now  and  eat.  We  require  much  fine 
food  and  drink."  He  clapped  his  hands,  and  Woo 
Fong  fetched  food.  Struh-La  ate  with  voracity  and 
yet  with  a  certain  daintiness.  He  said  to  the  girl: 
"Eat  you  also,  although  you  do  not  need  it  as  much 
as  I  do.  Passivity  does  not  require  too  much  fuel; 
it  is  I  who  do.  I  am  now  controlling  more  people 
than  ever  before  in  my  experience."  His  slant  and 
alluring  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Luliani's  face.  "I  am 
controlling  Reginald  Stevens;  he  is  inert,  listless;  al- 
though he  is  here,  he  does  not  look  for  you  with  his 
own  activity." 

Miss  de  Fontanges  made  no  reply. 

Presently  Struh-La  went  away  out  into  the  alleys 
up  one  story  to  play  fan-tan.  Later  on  he  recalled  the 
whimsical  invitation  to  dine  at  the  Palace  Hotel  from 
the  Colorado  mining  man. 

Meanwhile  the  Colorado  mining  man  had  secured 
a  small  room  in  a  lodging-house  in  Third  Street,  very 
much  out  of  the  way,  but  admirable  for  his  purposes 
of  varying  personality.  He  had  also  established  re- 
lations with  police  headquarters,  and  knew  he  could 
obtain  aid  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  To  this 
small  room,  overlooking  Merchant  Street  and  the  wa- 

282 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

ter-front,  Jaffray  went,  after  despatching  Jermyn  on 
his  quest  for  Bertha's  whereabouts.  Taking  off  his 
disguise  as  Jim  McAlpin,  the  man  from  headquar- 
ters invested  himself  once  more  in  the  garments  of 
Father  Decker;  so  arranged,  he  went  back  to  the 
Palace  Hotel. 

Jermyn  awaited  him  in  the  office,  but  would  not 
recognize  his  superior  until  Jaffray  gave  him  the  tip; 
this  once  done,  the  subordinate  approached  his  chief; 
they  sat  together  for  a  few  minutes,  having  met  as 
old  parishioner  and  priest,  each  surprised  at  encoun- 
tering the  other.  While  Jermyn  held  a  paper  before 
his  face,  he  said: 

"The  lady  is  here;  she  got  in  to-day." 
"Good,"  was  the  reply;  "where  is  she?" 
"At  a  little  private  hotel  on  Sutter  Street,  not  far 
away;  it's  called  the  Alexandra." 

"I   know  it — diagonal  corner   from  the   Stafford 
House,  next  door  to  a  concert-hall,"  said  the  priest. 
"Precisely,  sir." 

"Get  away  now.    Keep  in  call,  though,  right  here." 
"Yes,  sir.     Nothing  to  be  done  just  now,  then?" 
"No,  not  just  now.    Has  Mr.  Stevens  come  in  yet  ?" 
"No,  sir.    Yes,  there  he  is !"  as  Stevens  entered  the 
reading-room. 

"As  soon  as  you  can,  let  him  know  that  I  am  going 

283 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

up  to  his  rooms  and  waiting  there  to  see  him."  The 
priest  rose,  put  out  his  hand  in  parochial  fashion  to 
the  facile  Jermyn,  then  walked  away  to  one  of  the 
corridors,  his  prayer-book  in  his  grasp. 

It  did  not  take  Jermyn  any  longer  to  acquaint 
Reggie  with  Jaffray's  message  than  it  took  Jaffray  to 
reach  Stevens'  rooms;  the  two  men  met  at  the  thresh- 
old— savage  inquiry  in  the  face  of  the  millionaire 
man,  blankness  on  the  other  until  the  door  was  shut. 
Then  Jaffray  spoke. 

"Mr.  Stevens,  I  think  I  see  daylight." 

Reggie  did  not  speak;  he  was  dulled  by  his  sleep  in 
the  boatman's  hut,  perhaps. 

"I've  been  talking  with  Struh-La."  He  rehearsed  to 
Stevens  the  gist  of  his  experiences  as  Jim  McAlpin  in 
Chinatown.  "Now,"  he  added,  "I'm  going  to  get  into 
those  infernal  depths,  I'll  bet  my  life  on  that,  and 
fetch  Miss  de  Fontanges  out;  but  I  can't  do  it  to- 
day, nor  to-morrow,  either;  it'll  take  time." 

"How  is  it  to  be  done?"  Stevens  as  yet  spoke 
quietly. 

"I'm  counting  on  the  Chinese  man's  turning  up  here 
at  six." 

"He  won't  come !"  said  Reggie. 

"Yes,  he  will.  Remember,  he's  got  a  living  identity 
to  keep  a  decent  record  of.  He's  dead,  maybe,  so  far 

284 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

as  Struh-La's  concerned,  but  on  this  side  of  the  world 
he  is  a  merchant;  he  is  known  to  'Father  Decker'; 
he  left  me  at  Salt  Lake  and  has  no  notion  of  my 
turning  up  in  San  Francisco.  I  intend  to  have  him 
meet  me  in  this  guise  to-day." 

Reggie  did  not  move.  "You  will  excite  his  sus- 
picions." 

"Just  what  I  wish  to  do,"  returned  the  detective. 
"I  want  him  to  see  you,  too;  not  with  me,  of  course." 

"What  are  you  giving  him  this  advantage  for?" 
demanded  Stevens. 

"I  want  him,"  returned  Jaffray,  "to  get  it  firmly 
fixed  in  his  head  that  he  is  being  watched." 

Stevens  said :  "Ah!"  As  one  wakens  from  a  stupid 
nap,  he  felt  his  own  disadvantage.  He  tried  to  get 
back  his  balance;  tried  and  failed.  All  he  could  do 
was  to  listen  carefully  and  with  an  effort,  to  speak. 
"Would  it  not  be  better  to  keep  the  whip  in  the  stock, 
and  not  handicap  my  cause  by  letting  him  in  on  the 
ground  floor?"  he  added,  after  thinking  a  minute. 

"You're  right,  Mr.  Stevens,  in  general;  the  excep- 
tion proves  the  rule.  So  long  as  this  fellow  goes 
along  without  anything  to  trouble  him,  he  may  keep 
Miss  de  Fontanges  in  hiding  for  years.  You  and 
I  are  powerless.  He's  got  to  be  waked  up  to  a  sense 
of  danger.  Security  with  him  spells  inactivity,  so 

285 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

'far  as  our  purposes  are  concerned ;  the  minute  I  breed 
suspicion  in  him  I  create  action,  and  that's  what  I 
want!"  The  eyes  of  the  detective  flashed.  Stevens 
rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  floor. 

The  detective  went  on:  "The  minute  Struh-La 
thinks  he  is  being  watched  his  first  thought  will  be 
of  the  jewels " 

"Why  not  of  Miss  de  Fontanges?"  interrupted 
Stevens  dully. 

"Because  there  is  no  danger  to  him  in  his  retention 
of  Miss  de  Fontanges.  Miss  de  Fontanges  crossed 
the  continent,  unaccompanied  by  this  man.  She  did 
not  escape,  or  refuse,  so  far  as  any  one  knows,  to  go ; 
she  is  here  of  her  own  apparent  free  will.  We've 
got  to  remember  that  Struh-La  has  every  apparent 
right,  so  far  as  Miss  de  Fontanges  is  concerned,  on 
his  side ;  we  may  know  that  there  is  a  great  power  of 
occultism  in  commission,  but  the  law  and  public  opin- 
ion don't  recognize  that  force.  The  factor  we  have 
to  work  with  in  regaining  Miss  de  Fontanges  is  the 
theft  of  the  jewels  Mrs.  Austin  wore.  The  moment 
I  arouse  the  Chinaman's  suspicions,  that  moment  I  set 
him  to  work  putting  those  jewels  out  of  his  pos- 
session. No  one  can  take  Miss  de  Fontanges  from 
him — as  long  as  she  seems  to  wish  to  stop,  but  the 
instant  we  can  fasten  enough  upon  him  to  warrant 

286 


THE  FL'AME  'D'ANCER 

arrest  we  get  him,  and  so  we  reach  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges — see?" 

"I  hear,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"Struh-La  will,  unless  I  am  mightily  mistaken,  take 
measures  to  put  those  jewels  in  some  one  else's  keep- 
ing very  shortly  after  he  has  seen  you  and  Father 
Decker!" 

"Whose?"  Stevens  asked. 

The  detective  hesitated  a  second,  then  said:  "Some 
woman.  Now,  will  you,  Mr.  Stevens,  go  down  in  the 
office  and  Struh-La  will  turn  up.  At  any  rate,  I  will, 
in  a  few  minutes." 

Reggie  nodded. 

"All  I  am  after  is  that  he  shall  know  that  you  are 
in  San  Francisco."  Jaffray  smiled  as  he  spoke. 

Stevens  did  not  smile.  He  left  the  room  and  went 
down-stairs.  He  moved  mechanically.  Was  it  Struh- 
La  who  once  again  had  dominion  over  him  ?  Who  can 
say? 


287 


XHE   FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XXII 

WEAVING   A    HUMAN    NET 

AS   Father  Decker  had  predicted,   the   Oriental 
entered  the  lobby  of  the  Palace  Hotel  that 
evening  at  the  appointed  time.     He  advanced 
with  the  direct  gait  that  was  characteristic  of  him, 
to  the  desk,  and  inquired  for  Mr.  Jim  McAlpin.     At 
the  counter  he  saw  Reginald  Stevens,  but  this  did  not 
deflect    him    from    his    course.     Stevens    looked    at 
Struh-La  and  nodded. 

The  professor,  leaving  the  counter,  came  up  to 
Stevens.  "I  see,  you  see  also  by  the  papers,  those 
miraculous  journals  in  yellow  of  your  country,  that 
I  make  suicide!"  the  man  from  the  Orient  laughed. 

"I  did." 

"It  was  ridiculous.  Every  one  knew  better.  I  was 
called  by  the  illness  of  my  best  friend  here.  He  re- 
covers so  soon.  I  go  away."  Struh-La  looked  at 
Stevens ;  his  extraordinary  eyes  seemed  to  bite  into  the 
eyes  of  the  Western  man.  Stevens  felt  them;  even 
jerked  himself  away  a  bit;  then  came  closer  to  Struh- 
La  than  before.  There  was  defiance  in  his  atmosphere. 

288 


TES,    SHE   IS   HERE.1 


Page  289. 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

Struh-La  smiled.  Stevens  perforce  smiled  bade. 
There  was  such  idiosyncrasy  in  their  attitudes  that  the 
men  near  them  halted  in  their  chat  and  stared  a  little. 
The  Oriental  smiled  on,  the  man  of  the  West  re- 
treated, backed  down  as  it  were,  and  leaned  in  a  lazy 
fashion  against  the  bar. 

Struh-La  said  in  his  perfect  way,  as  a  Parisian 
would  say  it:  "And  madam  is  here  also?"  It  was  a 
daring  thing  to  have  said.  He  liked  risk;  he  was 
risking  his  life  just  then  with  this  man  in  front  of 
him,  and  all  the  group  felt  it.  Every  man  of  them 
knew  that  these  two  men  were  righting  for  "madam," 
whoever  she  was !  And  each  of  them  would  have  bet 
on  a  sure  battle  to  be  fought  then  and  there. 

But  although  Stevens  did  make  a  slight  motion, 
after  all  it  seemed  a  futile  one.  Then  he  pulled  him- 
self together  and  said,  with  coolness  and  meaning: 
"Yes,  she  is  here." 

Struh-La's  eyes  flashed.  He  felt  danger  near,  but 
not  upon  him  as  yet.  Stevens  turned  his  back  and 
went  away.  But  as  the  Oriental  regarded  him,  so  did 
the  others;  they  all  noted  that  he  went  reluctantly, 
indirectly;  and  Struh-La  presently  resumed  his  in- 
quiries for  Mr.  McAlpin. 

"No  such  person  here;  not  on  the  register,  sir," 

289 


T.HE  FLAME   DANCER 

was  the  rejoinder,  as  the  clerk  turned  the  leaves  of 
his  book. 

The  Oriental  made  answer :  "But  I  think  some  mis- 
take is  made.  Large,  fine-looking  gentleman  from 
Colorado." 

The  clerk  shook  his  head.  "Plenty  of  fine-looking 
men  here,  sir,  but  none  by  the  name  of  McAlpin," 
was  the  smiling  response.  Struh-La  did  not  smile 
back;  he  felt  baffled;  and  just  then  he  beheld  Father 
Decker  approaching  with  a  letter,  which  he  dropped 
in  the  mail-box. 

The  sight  of  the  priest  whom  he  had  left  behind 
him  at  Salt  Lake  did  not  reassure  Struh-La.  The 
fact  was,  seeing  this  man  here  at  this  time  was  dis- 
agreeable. However,  it  looked  as  if  it  were  equally 
so  to  the  priest,  for,  on  beholding  Struh-La,  he  made 
a  palpable  move  toward  getting  out  of  range  as  quickly 
as  he  could.  The  bait  took;  the  Oriental,  convinced 
now  that  the  presence  of  this  priest  in  San  Francisco 
in  some  way  had  to  do  with  him  and  his  affairs,  in- 
stantly decided  to  do  as  he  usually  did,  take  the  bull 
by  the  horns.  He  went  after  the  priest,  and  was 
obliged  to  walk  very  fast  indeed  to  keep  him  in  sight, 
as  the  reverend  gentleman  sought  the  street  and 
crossed  over  the  way. 

290 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

Struh-La  finally  brought  up  a  block  from  the  Palace 
Hotel. 

The  detective  turned  sharply,  with  an  expression  of 
ill-disguised  annoyance,  as  of  one  who  is  recognized 
against  his  will.  He  said:  "Well,  sir?"  in  a  brusque 
way. 

"How  do  you  do?"  exclaimed  the  Oriental,  rooted 
now  in  the  belief  that  Father  Decker  was  just  what 
he  was,  a  detective,  but  he  did  not  think  of  Jaffray 
or  any  New  York  man. 

"A  mistake,  I  think,"  remarked  the  priest,  disen- 
gaging himself  and  making  to  go  on  his  way. 

"No,"  said  Struh-La;  "don't  you  remember  me,  in 
the  train  coming  West  a  few  days  ago  ?  We  separated 
at  Salt  Lake.  You  are  Father  Thomas  Decker,  aren't 
you?" 

"True  for  you!"  exclaimed  the  priest.  "You've 
got  the  advantage  of  me,  though.  Who  are  you?" 

"Don't  you  remember?"  The  Oriental  regarded 
his  companion  with  curiosity.  He  was  wondering  if 
it  could  be  true  that  this  man  had  no  recollection  of 
him. 

The  priest  shook  his  head.  They  had  been,  guided 
by  the  inclination  of  the  detective,  walking  along 
toward  Sutter  Street  as  they  talked. 

"It's  too  bad,  sir.  That's  the  worst  of  me;  I've 
291  , 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

a  poor  head  for  remembering  anything  but  the  blessed 
mass." 

The  Chinese  smiled.  "I  will  not  then  refresh  your 
memory,  sir." 

"You're  an  Oriental  man,  sir;  that's  enough  for 
me." 

Struh-La  glanced  up  in  surprise. 

"I'm  sent  out  here  by  the  head  of  our  order,  the 
Jesuits,  you  know,  to  study  your  people." 

Struh-La  shook  his  head.  His  instincts  told  him 
to  stick  to  Bombay  with  this  man,  although  he  might 
be  wise  to  do  even  that  tacitly. 

"You  mean  to  say  you're  not  a  Chinese?"  Father 
Decker  spoke  incredulously. 

"I  am  more  often  than  not  taken  for  one,  and  I  am 
much  interested  in  those  people  of  the  East." 

"Are  you  now?  Well,  so  am  I.  I  was  in  the 
Palace  just  now  when  you  were  asking  for  Jim  Mc- 
Alpin." 

"Yes,"  said  Struh-La;  "were  you?"  And  he  felt 
that  he  would  like  to  strangle  this  priest,  and  yet,  too, 
he  patted  himself  and  said:  "You  are  a  fool,"  in  his 
own  mind. 

"I  met  him  only  to-day,  and  he  invited  me  to  dine 
with  him.  I  came,  to  find  no  such  person!" 

"That's  like  him!"  exclaimed  the  priest. 

202 


THE   FLAME   D'ANCER 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  Struh-La. 

"Indeed  and  I  do !"  heartily ;  "the  best  fellow  in  the 
world,  only  he  will  take  too  much  whisky,  and  when 
that's  on  board,  Jimmie  loses  his  senses." 

"Is  he  not,  then,  stopping  at  the  Palace?" 

Father  Decker  hesitated  before  he  answered.  He 
was  calculating  whether  Struh-La  was  or  was  not 
sufficiently  put  on  guard.  "Well,  now  that  I  can't 
say ;  but  as  Jimmie's  a  friend  of  mine,  and  he's  cheat- 
ing you  out  of  a  dinner,  I  insist  on  your  dining  with 
me;  but  I  do!" 

"Pardon  me,  I  cannot;  very  much  obliged,  I  can- 
not." 

"I  won't  take  no  for  an  answer,"  was  the  priest's 
reply.  "Come  on  in  somewhere — here!"  He  glanced 
around.  They  were  in  front  of  the  Hotel  Alexandra, 
and  Jaffray's  heart  beat  double-quick  as  he  thought 
that  it  was  here  that  Bertha  Wilmerding  was  stop- 
ping. 

Should  he  enter  and  run  the  risk  of  her  seeing  him 
disguised?  Why  not?  She  would  never  recognize 
him,  and  he  might  have  the  delight  of  feasting  his 
eyes  upon  her. 

"This  is  a  nice  little  place,  I've  heard,"  he  persisted, 
leading  Struh-La  into  the  modest  entrance  hall. 

"But,  sir " 

293 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Ah,  surely  now,  I'll  be  believing  it's  because  I  can't 
recall  your  name,  sir,  that  you're  angry  at  the  poor 
old  priest  and  won't  break  bread  with  him." 

Struh-La  was  cut  in  two  with  opinions.  One  way 
he  believed  the  priest  a  detective  in  Reginald  Stevens' 
pay;  the  other  he  found  Father  Decker  just  what  his 
name  and  garb  proclaimed  him. 

"No,  no,  no,"  said  the  Chinese,  as  he  actually  found 
himself  in  the  pretty  dining-room,  seated  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  door. 

The  detective  had  chosen  this  table  with  a  purpose. 
He  longed  to  see  Bertha,  to  hear  her  voice;  he  knew 
that  if  she  came  down  to  dinner,  it  must  be  probably 
while  he  should  be  there ;  she  would  have  to  pass  that 
table;  she  might  very  likely  see  Struh-La.  Would 
she  speak  with  him?  She  would  be  so  close  that  he 
could  detect  the  fragrance  of  her  ribbons,  and  he  had 
never  felt  to  any  woman  as  he  felt  to  this  one.  He 
had  indeed  wilfully  fetched  his  man  to  the  Hotel 
Alexandra. 

They  seated  themselves,  Father  Decker  facing  the 
entrance.  Struh-La's  back  to  it. 

"Sure,  there  now,  it's  for  poor  Jimmie  I'm  doing- 
this,  sir.  Ah,  many's  the  scrape  I've  helped  that  man 
out  of."  He  pushed  a  menu  across  to  his  guest  and 

294 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

proceeded  to  mark  another,  making  liberal  concessions 
to  the  wine-cellar  of  the  house. 

"You  have  known  him  long?"  inquired  Struh-La. 

"Boys  together,  sir;  grew  up  like  brothers." 

"Aha,  very  nice.  But  now  I  ask  of  you  to  remem- 
ber my  name,  can  you  not?  It  is  awkward  to  be  the 
guest  of  one  who  does  not  recall  one's  name." 

Father  Decker  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead 
thoughtfully.  Meantime,  the  raw  impulse  of  the  Ori- 
ental was  to  get  up  and  run.  He  didn't  do  any  such 
thing,  however;  and  while  he  sat  there,  quivering,  he 
enjoyed  his  situation.  The  man's  mentality  was  as 
powerful  as  it  was  extraordinary,  and  it  was  equally 
well  balanced. 

While  he  watched  the  priest  Bertha  Wilmerding 
came  in ;  the  sight  of  her  caused  the  detective  a  thrill- 
ing delight.  She  was  beautifully  gowned  in  some 
filmy  pink  stuff,  with  a  lot  of  yellowish  lace.  Her 
black  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  atmosphere  was  one  of 
a  radiant  prosperity,  a  bit  daring,  possibly,  but  to  this 
man  she  was  then  and  there  the  one  woman  in  the 
world  whom  he  most  wished  to  see.  As  she  came 
toward  their  table,  passing  it  very  closely,  to  her  own 
seat,  ,she  did  see  the  back  of  Struh-La's  head.  As  she 
turned  to  sit  down  in  her  chair,  which  was  on  the 
upper  side  of  a  table  rather  higher  in  the  room  than 

295 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

Jaffray's,  she  recognized  Struh-La,  and,  not  having 
fairly  sat  down,  with  a  not  ungraceful  motion  she 
came  toward  him  a  step,  a  curious  anxiety  and  an 
equal  daring  in  her  expression. 

Struh-La  instantly  rose.  The  priest,  following  the 
usual  impulse,  was  about  to  rise  also,  but  instead  he 
sat  still  and  looked  on. 

"Professor  Struh-La!  how  do  you  do?  I  am  glad 
to  see  a  familiar  face!" 

"Thank  you,  mademoiselle.  It  is  agreeable  to  see 
you.  You  are  here  a  long  time?" 

Miss  Wilmerding  laughed.  "I've  only  just  ar- 
rived, and  you?" 

"To-day  I  come." 

"I  heard  you  had  committed  suicide,"  exclaimed 
the  girl. 

"Oh,  that  was  what  you  call  a  fake  story  of  your 
newspapers."  Bertha,  with  a  slight  glance  toward 
Father  Decker,  began  to  move  away.  Struh-La  ac- 
companied her,  exchanging  a  few  words,  and  then 
returned  to  his  host. 

"Pardon  me  for  not  introducing  you,  Father 
Decker,  but  I  fancy  the  priest  does  not  care  too  much 
for  these  ladies  of  society."  Struh-La  smiled  amiably 
as  he  spoke. 

The  priest  inclined  his  head.  "The  lady  gave  me 

296 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

fyour  name,  'Struh-La,'  but  even  now,  for  the  life  of 
me,  I  don't  recall  your  telling  that  to  me  when  we 
first  met." 

"No?"  was  the  retort.  "One  encounters  so  many; 
people." 

"A  very  interesting  young  lady,  that,"  pursued  the 
reverend  gentleman,  glancing  over  at  Bertha. 

Struh-La  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was  now 
sure  that  Father  Decker  was  a  detective.  As  he  sat 
there  he  determined  exactly  what  he  would  do  and 
how  he  would  do  it.  He  did  not  intend  to  lose  any 
time,  and  he  did  intend  to  take  advantage  of  every 
possible  circumstance  which  fate  had  thrown  in  his 
way.  He  reconnoitered  the  hotel  in  all  its  bearings 
while  he  discussed  the  dinner  with  his  genial  host. 
Jaffray  noted  his  preoccupation,  excellently  as  it  was 
cloaked,  and  arrived  at  his  deductions  also. 

Bertha  finished  her  dinner  before  the  two  men.  As 
she  passed  their  table  she  swept  a  pretty  glance,  and, 
a  few  steps  nearer  the  door,  she  had  the  ill  luck  to 
drop  her  tortoiseshell  fan.  Struh-La,  who  was 
glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  her,  sprang  and  picked 
up  the  fragments. 

Miss  Wilmerding  was  profuse  in  her  thanks;  the 
professor  accompanied  her  gallantly  to  the  lift,  speak- 
ing a  little  to  her  on  the  way.  When  he  turned,  after 

297 


31HE  FL'AME  VA'NCER 

seeing  her  safely  on  her  upward  journey,  Father 
Decker  was  at  his  side.  Struh-La  almost  started,  not 
quite. 

Jaffray  said:  "I  was  afraid  you  were  running  away 
from  me;  that  the  dinner  was  so  bad  or  the  company 
so  poor?" 

"My  dear  and  reverend  sir!"  exclaimed  Struh-La 
reproachfully,  as  he  linked  his  arm  in  the  detective's, 
"I  went  to  the  assistance  of  that  young  lady.  I  knew 
her  a  little  in  New  York.  She  is  here  without  friends, 
she  tells  me,  looking  after  a  legacy,  something  like 
that.  What  a  fine  country  that  the  women  can  so 
voyage  about  it  fearlessly!" 

They  sat  down  again  to  their  dessert,  and  amid 
pleasant  conversation  shaped  by  the  detective  to  meet 
the  end  of  frightening  his  guest  and  biased  by  the 
guest  in  such  fashion  as  he  imagined  would  best  serve 
his  own  ends.  In  another  half -hour  they  parted. 
Struh-La  said  he  was  going  to  the  Chinese  quarter. 
Jaffray  cast  little  doubt  on  this  statement,  but,  never- 
theless, as  soon  as  the  Oriental  had  disappeared,  he 
rang  Jermyn  up  at  the  Palace,  and  told  him  to  shadow 
the  suspect,  giving  him  the  fact  that  Struh-La  had 
just  that  moment  gone  out  into  Sutter  Street. 

Father  Decker  then  returned  to  the  Palace,  entered  a 

298 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

telephone-booth,  rang  up  the  Alexandra,  and  asked  to 
be  given  Miss  Bertha  Wilmerding. 

In  another  moment  he  heard  her  voice,  and  it 
thrilled  him  as  woman's  voice  never  had  before  in  two 
different  ways. 

She  said:  "Who  is  it?" 

"This  is  I.     Don't  you  know  my  voice?" 

"No,"  hesitatingly.  "I  think  I  recognize  it,  but  I 
don't  dare  to  assume." 

"Please  assume.  It  will  afford  me  pleasure  if  you 
will." 

"Well,  I  think  I  last  saw  you  at  the  Grand  Central 
when  I  was  leaving  New  York  for  Saratoga." 

"Correct." 

"Is  it  really  you,  Mr.  Jaffray?" 

"It  is  really  I.  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  would  follow 
you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth?" 

"Yes,"  very  softly. 

"Well  then,  here  I  am." 

"Just  to  see  me — I  mean  is  there  no  other  reason — • 
professional,  maybe,  you  know?"  Her  tone  was  hesi- 
tant. 

"I  am  here  just  because  you  are  here." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  he  could  hear  her  breath 
coming  quickly  in  delight.  He  then  said :  "When  can 
I  see  you — now?" 

299 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Oh,  no,  not  just  now."  Her  voice  was  a  trifle 
agitated. 

"This  afternoon?"  he  pleaded. 

"Impossible!"  Bertha  spoke  hurriedly.  "I  have  an 
important  engagement.  I  am  sorry." 

"Another  man?"  Jaffray  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

"If  you  say  so!"  She  laughed  with  amused 
pleasure. 

"Then  it  can  be  this  evening,  can  it?" 

"Yes,  this  evening.    I  shall  be  so  glad." 

"I  will  be  with  you  at  eight-thirty.  I  shall  send 
you  some  flowers  as  an  avant  courier." 

Jaffray  heard  her  small  sigh  of  superb  satisfaction, 
and  it  caused  him  delight.  He  hastened  to  add,  in 
a  soft  and  more  intimate  tone:  "Might  I  be  allowed 
to  come  up  unannounced  to  your  parlor?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  the  girl  answered,  in  pleased  hesita- 
tion :  the  whole  utterly  chaperonless  situation  charmed 
and  yet  frightened  her. 

Jaffray  went  on :  "Will  you  give  me  the  number  of 
your  parlor,  then?  These  people  are  so  stupid.  I  am 
terribly  pressed  for  time,  and,  to  be  candid" — he 
spoke  rather  desperately — "I  am  in  a  fever  to — see — - 
you." 

The  reply  came  quickly:  he  almost  saw  the  blush 
that  came  with  it. 

300 


"The  number  of  my  little  parlor  is  forty.  Good-by 
until " 

"Until  eight-thirty." 

He  went  back  to  Sutter  Street  and  sent  her  a  box 
of  roses  from  the  smartest  flower-shop  in  the  town. 


301 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    FIFTH    WHEEL   OF   THE    COACH 

WHEN  Stevens  quitted  the  wine-room,  his  gait 
was  a  little  undertermined,  even  after  he 
had  gotten  beyond   range  of  the  Oriental 
man's  eyes.    He  took  the  lift  and  went  up;  as  he  left 
it,  crossing  the  corridor  to  his  rooms,  Jean  Austin 
came  running  after  him. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Stevens!  Mr.  Stevens!"  The  child  in 
her  mourning  made  a  pathetic  little  figure.  "We  are 
here!  We've  just  come.  Come  in;  mother  will  be  so 
glad  to  see  you.  It's  not  the  jewels  at  all.  I  don't 
mean  that;  the  wires  from  you  have  told  us  all  that. 
But — have  you  found — her?" 

Reginald  was  in  Betty's  parlor  by  this  time  and  had 
shaken  hands  with  both  Jean's  parents. 

"Have  you  found  her?"  the  child  reiterated,  and 
her  father's  eager  eyes  put  the  same  tense  question. 

He  shook  his  head.  De  Forrest  Austin  turned  and 
left  the  room. 

"Don't  you  know  where  she  is  yet?"  cried  Jean 
in  a  stupefied  way. 

"No." 

302 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

"I  thought  you  would  be  sure  to  find  her  right 
off." 

"Hush,  Jean;  it  takes  time  to  do  things,"  Betty 
exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  Stevens  said  in  a  vacuous  way.  He  seemed 
suddenly  to  recollect  Struh-La's  eyes  and  he  became 
inert,  careless. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  do  anything?"  persisted 
Jean. 

"Yes!  yes!  of  course,"  Reggie  said,  and  then  he 
got  up  from  his  chair  and  went  to  the  window.  Be- 
hind his  back  Mrs.  Austin  motioned  Jean  to  leave, 
and  Jean  obeyed,  remarking  at  the  door:  "Well,  all 
I've  got  to  say  is  I  have  no  use  for  the  men  we  know, 
mother;  they're  a  lot  of  first-class  cads!" 

Betty  laughed.  "Children  don't  understand,"  she 
exclaimed.  "They  fancy  miracles  can  be  worked  in 
a  minute." 

"No,"  was  the  answer,  "they  don't  understand;  no, 
of  course  not.  It's  a  blooming  shame  about  your 
gewgaws,  Betty." 

"Pshaw!"  she  cried.  "Think  of  your  own,  worth 
ten  times  what  mine  were.  Tell  me,  is  there  no  trace 
or  clue  yet  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  some.     I'm  on  the  track,  I  think." 

"And  has  Jaffray  done  nothing  at  all,  either?" 

303 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"He's  working."  Stevens  felt  uncomfortable  at 
the  mention  of  Jaffray's  name.  He  felt  more  awake. 
He  forgot  Struh-La.  Betty  Austin  regarded  him 
curiously.  The  blood  rushed  up  to  her  face  scarlet. 
She  made  to  speak,  then  stopped;  so  noticeably  that 
Reginald  smiled  and  said : 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Have  you  seen  any  one  I  know  here,  any  of  the 
old  set,  that's  all?"  She  crossed  the  room  and  ar- 
ranged some  flowers  in  a  vase. 

"No.     Why?" 

"Nothing." 

"I've  seen  one  man  we  know.    Struh-La's  here." 

Betty  stooped  to  pick  up  something  which  had  never 
fallen,  and  all  the  red  blood  forsook  her  face. 

Stevens  saw  it;  he  went  over  to  her. 

"Look  here,  Betty !"  he  cried  out.  "It  isn't  possible 
that  that  man  is  anything  in  your  thoughts,  is  he  ?" 

She  shrank  away  a  little,  laughed,  and  said:  "I 
think  him  fascinating." 

"All  the  women  do,  I  believe."     Reggie  fell  back. 

"Not  all ;  but  to  me  there  was  an  appeal  in  his 
nature — and  his  music !"  Mrs.  Austin  put  up  her  eyes 
and  hands.  "That  was  divine." 

"Well,"  Reggie  stared  at  her.  He  recalled  the 
five-wheeled  coach  he  had  started  Jaffray  off  on  in 

304 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

New  York ;  and  then  he  added :  "You  realize  that  he  is 
probably  the  man  who  took  your  jewels — and  mine?" 

"No.  I  am  sure  it  was  not  he."  Mrs.  Austin's 
manner  was  dreamy. 

"Who  do  you  think  it  was,  then?"  he  asked,  much 
in  her  identical  mood — dreamily. 

"I  don't  think — I — I — well "    Betty  Austin  sat 

down  by  the  fire,  and  it  struck  Stevens  sharply  that 
her  attitude  was  precisely  the  one  she  had  had  in  the 
picture-gallery  at  the  time  that  he  had  seen  Luliani 
de  Fontanges  approach  her  and  lower  the  lights.  He 
sprang  up,  took  her  by  the  shoulders,  and  shook  her  a 
little,  staring  at  her  upraised  hand  and  her  open  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  said.     "Coming." 

Then  Jean  burst  back  into  the  room.  "Miss  Bertha's 
down-stairs,  mother!"  she  cried  out,  and  Betty  rose 
and  laughed. 

She  said  to  Stevens :  "You  know  Bertha  is  in  San 
Francisco,  too?" 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Jean;  "but  father  won't  let  her  visit 
mother — if  he  knows  it." 

Mrs.  Austin  smiled.  "You  treated  the  poor  girl 
shamefully,  Reggie.  She's  come  into  quite  a  bit  of 
money." 

"Has  she?" 

305 


"Yes.  She's  entertaining,  amusing,  and  Forrie  can't 
make  me  give  up  my  friends.  She's  coming  to  dinner 
this  very  evening.  Won't  you?" 

Stevens  said :  "Thank  you,  maybe  I  will." 

"It  would  be  such  a  lark!" 

"Yes,  it  might."  Stevens  made  his  adieus  and  Jean 
went  with  him  as  far  as  his  door. 

"I'm  sorry,"  the  child  whispered,  "I  spoke  that 
horrid  way — but  honestly,  now  that  we're  alone  to- 
gether, aren't  you  doing  anything  to  find  my  Miss  de 
Fontanges  ?" 

When  Reginald  reached  his  rooms  he  found  Jermyn 
there.  Jermyn  informed  him  that  Jaffray  was  now 
onto  the  most  important  deal  of  the  whole  job,  and 
that  he  would  fetch  Miss  de  Fontanges  out  before  five 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning. 

Stevens  said:  "Will  he?" 

"Any  orders,  sir?"  inquired  Jermyn. 

"No."     Jermyn  left. 

Jean's  question  echoed  over  and  over  again  in  his 
ears:  "Isn't  any  one  going  to  do  anything?"  What- 
ever was  being  done,  the  man  from  headquarters  was 
doing  it;  he  himself  stood  and  waited. 

In  a  flash  Stevens  seemed  to  realize  that  he  had  sat 
around  half  listlessly  all  the  time  he  had  been  in  San 

306 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Francisco;  the  realization  came  upon  him  as  a  revela- 
tion; he  was  astounded  at  himself.  He  walked  about 
his  rooms;  there  seemed  to  be  new  life  in  his  veins; 
ability  and  strength  went  swinging  through  his  blood. 
What  had  dominated  him  and  kept  him  inert  all  this 
time?  Jaffray?  No.  Although  a  jealousy  of  Jaf- 
fray  suddenly  leaped  into  existence.  What  in  the 
name  of  all  sacred  things  had  forced  him,  Reginald 
Stevens,  under,  and  made  of  him  a  laggard  and  a  mere 
spectator?  Reggie  was  a  downright  chap,  not  over- 
gifted  with  imagination,  and  he  put  these  questions  to 
himself  in  a  very  matter-of-fact,  if  a  very  bewildered, 
way. 

The  answer  came  direct  and  unhesitating:  "Struh- 
La,"  and  in  a  second  he  grasped  the  full  extent  of  his 
supineness  and  its  cause.  Struh-La  had  dominated 
him !  Struh-La  had  been  able  to  keep  him  half  asleep. 
Now  he  awoke,  and,  with  a  cruel  sense  of  the  time  he 
had  lost  and  a  strange  sense  of  recovered  power,  Ste- 
vens laid  his  plan  in  two  seconds.  It  was  very  sim- 
ple and  just  what  he  would  have  done  the  hour  he 
arrived  in  the  California  city,  had  not  the  will  of 
Struh-La  dictated  otherwise.  It  was  to  go  down  into 
the  lowest  depth  of  the  Chinese  quarter  and  fetch 
Luliani  out,  if  she  were  there,  or  die  in  the  try. 


307 


FLAME  DANCER 


M 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   WOMAN    IN   ROOM    NO.    40 

EANTIME,  less  than  an  hour  after  his  talk 
with  Bertha  over  the  phone,  the  presumably; 
sobered-up  Mr.   Jim  McAlpin  drove  up  to 
the  Alexandra  Hotel,  jumped  out  quickly,  came  in,  and 
registered. 

"I've  been  stopping  over  at  that  house  on  the  cor- 
ner there;  too  much  racket  for  me." 
"No  racket  here,  sir." 

"I'm  superstitious,  too,  I  am.  I've  had  an  odd 
number  over  there.  Want  an  even-numbered  room — 
if  possible.  Got,  say — well,  forty?" 

"No,  sir;  forty's  occupied  by  a  lady;  quiet  as  a 
mouse,  too — a  lady  from  New  York.  Room  next 
her's — forty-two — is  vacant  to-day.  Lady  in  the 
other  side  of  that,  too — lady  from  San  Jose.  How's 
that?" 

Mr.  McAlpin  hesitated,  apparently,  and  then,  with 
a  show  of  reluctance,  said:  "Wellr  reckon  that'll  do. 
Try  it,  anyhow!" 

308 


THE   FL'AME   D'ANCER 

"You'll  find  42  quiet  enough  here,  sir;  a  lady  on 
each  side  of  you.  Front!  Show  the  gentleman  up 
to  42." 

42  proved  to  be  a  square  room,  with  two  windows 
on  Sutter  Street.  It  was  nicely  furnished;  logs  were 
on  the  hearth  ready  to  light;  there  was  a  closet,  which 
the  page  boy  pointed  out  with  becoming  pride,  and 
wherein  he  deposited  the  new  guest's  valise,  topcoat, 
and  umbrella. 

There  was  a  little  Waterbury  clock  on  the  mantel 
and  it  sang  out  the  half-hour  just  as  the  boy  left. 
McAlpin  promptly  turned  the  key;  then  closed  the 
blinds,  shutting  out  every  ray  of  light ;  took  the  towels 
and  pinned  them  deftly  over  the  transom,  and  went 
in  the  closet.  He  tapped  the  wall  very  gently.  It 
resounded  thinly,  for  it  was  of  lath.  On  the  other 
side  it  did  not  form  another  closet,  but  was  a  pro- 
jection. A  picture  hung  upon  it  in  this  adjoining 
room,  and  it  thus  made  an  unnoticeable  portion  of 
the  walls  to  any  occupant. 

As  he  stood  there  Jaffray  despised  himself.  Eaves- 
dropping, no  matter  in  what  cause,  is  a  despicable 
business;  but  the  memory  of  a  girl's  face  spurred 
him  out  of  his  self-abasement,  and  he  at  once  plunged 
all  his  faculties  into  the  actual  occasion.  He  could 
hear,  in  his  neighbor's  room,  the  froufrou  of  a  wom- 

309 


THE   FLAME  DANCER 

an's  clothes,  showing  that  this  one  wore  a  trained 
gown,  lined  with  silk;  he  heard  the  dressing-table 
drawers  open  and  shut;  he  detected  a  faint  and  subtle 
perfume;  he  heard  her  pull  down  the  shades  and  ar- 
range the  blinds,  doubtless  toward  the  attainment  of 
a  becoming  light — therefore,  she  was  expecting,  as 
he  had  told  her,  a  man.  He  knew  who  this  man 
would  be.  What  if  he  should  be  mistaken?  He  never 
had  been  mistaken  in  the  five  years  he  had  been  pur- 
suing this  sort  of  thing — but  this  case,  he  admitted 
to  himself,  was  a  different  proposition  from  any  he 
had  ever  handled.  There  had  been  strange  subtleties 
in  it.  It  was  the  Occident,  with  its  directness  mapped 
against  the  indirection  of  the  Orient ;  it  was  a  maze  of 
conflicting  and  contending  forces.  Hitherto  he  had 
had  one  man  or  woman  to  deal  with — in  this  matter 
he  was  grappling  with  several.  It  was  a  struggle 
with  the  unknown,  the  immeasurable.  Above  all  else, 
it  was  the  mad  struggle  of  his  love  for  a  woman 
whom  he  suspected — whom  he  was  sure  was  involved ; 
for  Jaffray  felt  positive  that  the  woman  in  number  40 
was  the  woman  to  whom  Struh-La  would  entrust  the 
Austin  jewels.  He  felt  positive  that  Struh-La  would 
come  to  Bertha  with  the  jewels  before  an  hour  should 
elapse.  Upon  what  did  he  build  his  assumption? 
Was  it  that  keen  sixth  sense  wherewith  detectives  and 

310 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

women  are  sometimes  endowed?  No,  it  was  not  this 
with  Jaffray.  It  was  as  much  a  mathematical  accom- 
plishment in  his  mind  as  that  two  and  two  make  four ; 
he  could  not  bring  himself  into  line  for  figuring  it 
any  other  way. 

The  telephone-bell  rang  in  number  40.  The  woman 
went  over  to  the  instrument 

"Hello.    Yes.     Very  well,  show  the  visitor  up." 

Every  nerve  in  the  detective  tingled.  Would  or 
would  not  this  visitor  be  Struh-La? 

A  knock  came  at  the  door  of  40. 

The  woman  did  not  speak,  but  opened,  and  some 
one  came  in.  There  were  no  words  on  either  side. 
The  page  boy  doubtless  went,  the  door  closed;  pres- 
ently Jaffray  heard  the  key  turn  very  slowly,  very 
cautiously  in  his  neighbor's  lock.  He  smiled,  but  he 
was  on  the  rack.  He  was  not  yet  sure.  He  had 
not  heard  the  visitor's  voice. 

Then  the  woman  said:  "Is  that  necessary?" 

There  was  a  pause.  Jaffray  leaned  his  ear  against 
the  partition,  straining  in  all  his  nerves. 

Finally  it  was  indeed  Struh-La  who  replied:  "Yes, 
very  necessary.  There  is  danger  for  us." 

The  woman  answered:  "There  is  no  danger  for 
me." 

The  man  from  headquarters  took  breath;  he  drew 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

his  hand  across  his  forehead.  The  drops  there  were 
big.  He  heard  the  Oriental  say: 

"You  are  too  beautiful  and  too  intelligent  to  talk 
such  nonsense.  There  is  the  utmost  danger  for  you, 
unless  you  do  just  as  I  say." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  the  woman's  voice  replied,  "that 
it's  the  other  way — you've  got  to  do  as  I  say."  She 
spoke  with  a  triumphant  note. 

The  Chinaman  answered  patiently,  but  with  per- 
haps a  reserve  of  solid  irony:  "How  so?  Explain  to 
me?" 

"Didn't  I  find  you  with  Mr.  Stevens'  and  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin's jewels  tumbling  out  of  your  pockets  and  sleeve?" 
There  was  in  response  a  sound  of  assent  without  irrita- 
bility. "Did  you  not  offer  me  one-half  of  the  gems  as 
the  price  of  my  silence?"  Jaffray  heard  a  second 
sound,  in  no  wise  more  perturbed  than  its  predecessor. 

"Had  you  not  the  coolness  to  make  me  promise 
silence,  even  in  the  few  minutes  at  your  command, 
and  that  you  would  turn  this  theft  against  me  unless 
I  obeyed?" 

Struh-La  vouchsafed  a  third  assent. 

"Did  you  not  promise  to  turn  these  things  into 
money  for  me?  Did  you  not  paint  for  me  the  splen- 
dors and  luxuries  $350,000  could  give  me?  Did  you 
not  enthral  me  to  your  will,  and  make  me" — her  voice 

312 


THE  FL'AME  D'ANCER 

broke,  and  Jaff ray's  heart  beat  to  exultant  bursting; 
hers  had  not  been  the  initiative! — "make  me  do  what 
I  did?" 

Struh-La  answered  gently:  "But,  mademoiselle, 
previously  to  that  night  when  I  obtained  what  be- 
longs  "  The  man  from  the  Eastern  land  stopped 

short,  and  the  detective  knew  that  he,  too,  was  listen- 
ing; that  Struh-La,  with  his  marvelous  nerves  and 
supersensitive  insight,  felt  the  proximity  of  some  one. 
Jaffray  heard  his  soft  footfall  across  the  carpet — a 
pause.  Then  Struh-La  resumed :  "Previously  to  that 
night,  mademoiselle,  you  had  told  me  of  your  crav- 
ings for  money  and  what  money  buys.  So,  naturally, 
when  I  found  myself  in  a  certain  sense  in  your  power, 
I  used  the  arguments  incident  to  the  occasion."  Bertha 
did  not  answer  immediately.  When  she  did,  this  is 
what  she  said,  in  an  eager,  curious  tone :  "Who  took 
them?" 

Jaffray  crouched  closer  to  the  thin  wall  dividing 
them,  to  hear  that  answer. 

It  was  this — spoken  in  an  even,  soft  voice,  ex- 
quisitely modulated:  "No  one  took  them,  mademoi- 
selle." 

There  was  again  a  little  pause,  when  the  Oriental 
man  added :  "I  am  glad  you  also  came  here ;  but  why 
'did  you  come,  mademoiselle  ?" 

313 


THE  FL'AME  'DANCER 

"I  followed  you  to  San  Francisco  for  money." 

And  the  man  from  headquarters  heard  that  note  of 
bitter  starvation  in  this  woman's  voice  which  he  had 
heard  often  before  in  other  women's  voices — -but  never 
so  ravenous.  It  was  unparalleled.  Jaffray  had  lis- 
tened to  the  wail  of  women  wanting  money,  wanting 
luxury,  fine  food,  fine  wines,  even  wanting  something 
they  called  love — pitiful  cries  out  of  the  hell  of  lost 
lives — but  he  had  never  heard  anything  to  equal  the 
pity  of  the  cry  of  this  woman  in  number  40.  That 
was  because  he  loved  her, 

The  Chinese  made  no  answer  that  the  detective 
could  hear ;  but  presently  he  did  hear  Bertha  exclaim : 
"Don't  think  you  can  hypnotize  me  as  you  did  before, 
because  you  can't  do  it — now." 

"There  is  no  such  thing  as  hypnotism.  It  is  the 
unknown  force." 

"Well,  no  matter  about  all  the  ifs  and  ands.  I  want 
money.  I  can't  sell  these  things.  You  must." 

"No." 

"What!" 

Struh-La  said  calmly  enough :  "Here  are  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  if  you  want  them." 

"No.  Go  away.  I  want  nothing.  Here  are  the 
jewels,  and  go  away." 


THE  FLAME  D'ANCER 

Jaffray's  breath  came  in  a  gasp  of  relieved  thank- 
fulness.. 

"I  think,"  returned  the  Chinese,  with  deliberation, 
"you  want  money.  Take  it.  There  is  no  time  to 
waste.  Take  this  money,  and  also  the  care  of  these 
other  jewels,  my  half L-" 

"What!"  she  cried,  in  amazement  and  terror. 

"In  these  two  buckskin  bags,"  Struh-La  went  on. 
"I  am  watched;  if  not,  I  may  be.  I  intend  to  make 
myself  immune.  No  one  will  watch  you.  You  will 
keep  these  in  safety  about  you,  in  your  trunks  or 
boxes." 

"I  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  she  said  proudly. 

"I  think  so,"  returned  the  Oriental.  "I  think  so, 
because  if  you  don't  agree  to  do  this,  you  get  no 
money  at  all.  And,  I  have  informed  myself,  you  owe 
your  bill  here;  you  owe  already  at  some  shops;  you 
are  really  without  necessary  funds.  Besides,"  Struh- 
La's  tone  fell  so  low  that  the  one  who  listened  could 
scarcely  make  out  what  he  said,  yet  he  caught  these 
words :  "Mademoiselle  will  do  as  I  wish.  Yes,  oh,  yes, 
mademoiselle  is  but  one  of  many  instruments  which 
Strufi-La  uses  to  attain  the  right." 

"'The  right/"  Jaffray  heard  the  girl  repeat  in 
a  lamentable  tone,  a  tone  as  of  the  intelligence  striving 

315 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

to  assert  itself  in  the  face  of  some  overmastering 
soporific. 

"Yes,  the  Right,  the  True.  Ah,  mademoiselle,  it 
is  a  fact  that  the  jewels  of  Mrs.  Austin  are  not  what 
I  want.  Not  at  all.  They  came  with  the  rest." 

'  'Came/  "  Bertha  exclaimed,  still  in  the  same  dazed 
voice. 

"Yes,"  Struh-La  answered  gently,  "came.  Since 
they  came,  I  use  them  also,  principally  to  keep  you 
quiet — and  now,  likewise,  to  attach  you  to  me" — the 
detective's  big  fist  clenched  as  he  heard  this — "because 
you  are  a  very  opportune  tool.  I  can  entrust  you 
with  the  whole,  everything,  knowing  that  you  will 
not  be  suspected  or  watched;  knowing  that  if  you 
should  be  tempted  to  speak,  the  entire  theft  can  be 
turned  upon  you  alone — since  you  will  possess  all." 

"I  will  not!"  To  Jaffray's  fancy,  Bertha  must 
have  risen  and  stood  at  bay.  Her  tone  was  a  kind 
of  forlorn  defiance  which  evidently  met  its  Waterloo 
in  Struh-La's  laugh. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,  mademoiselle.  Here  tfiey  are. 
Where  do  you  keep  the  other  portion  of  them?" 

"In  that,"  Bertha  said. 

"Get  them  all  together,"  commanded  the  Chinese. 
Then  there  was  no  sound,  save  the  tinkle  of  chains, 

316 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

pins,  bracelets,  the  soft  rustle  of  tissue-paper,  the 
closing  of  box  or  bag. 

"What  will  I  do  with  it?"  the  girl  asked,  still  in 
a  dazed  fashion. 

"Let  it  stand  just  there.  What  is  obvious,  made- 
moiselle, is  never  suspected.  Only  hidden  things  are 
watched  and  sought  for." 

"You  —  you  trust  me?"  she  inquired  in  a  pitiable 
tone. 

"Undoubtedly.  You  are  helpless."  Jaffray  almost 
sprang  through  the  partition.  It  was  hard  to  stand 
still  and  listen  to  this,  when  he  loved  this  girl  as  he 


"Mademoiselle,"  continued  Struh-La,  "I  entrust  my 
plans  to  no  speech.  Speech  is  not  necessary  with  me, 
except  occasionally.  People  whom  I  select  do  my 
silent  bidding.  When  the  moment  arrives  that  I  want 
these  jewels  I  will  cause  you  to  give  them  to  me. 
iYou  will  not  retain  one  of  them.  I  will  keep  what 
I  should  ;  the  rest  —  well,  perhaps  they  might  find  their 
way  back  to  —  your  friend  Mrs.  Austin.  Meantime, 
mademoiselle,  you  will  always  do  my  bidding." 

"No,"  she  sobbed,  "no.  I  will  not.  If  you  leave 
those  things  here  I  will  give  them  back  to  Mr.  Stevens 
and  Mrs.  Austin  to-day.  I  —  will  !  I  have  been  more 
than  a  thief  —  a  thief's  partner.  I  will  —  not  —  I  —  ^-" 

317 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Jaffray's  shoulder  was  against  the  partition.  Just 
here  he  remembered  Luliani  and  called  a  halt  on  him- 
self. 

"Mademoiselle,"  Struh-La  went  on,  "you  will  do 
those  things  which  fate  determines  for  you;  and,  per- 
haps, it  is  not  beneath  your  womanhood  to  render  as- 
sistance to  a  cause  as  remarkable  as  mine." 

There  was  no  reply,  save  a  slight  sob — the  sob  of 
a  human  being  in  subjection,  the  inarticulate  vocal 
tribute  of  the  one  who  obeys  to  the  other  one  who 
dictates. 

"Do  not  sob ;  it  is  not  worth  while,"  Struh-La  went 
on  in  an  even,  low  tone.  "Let  me  see.  Mademoiselle, 
I  will  seal  this  box,  if  you  will  permit  me."  Jaffray 
then  knew  that  the  treasure  was  contained  in  a  box. 
Presently  he  heard  a  match,  smelled  sealing-wax,  the 
pungent  perfume  coming  through  the  partition  to  him ; 
and  Struh-La  continued:  "You  perceive,  mademoi- 
selle, so — I  seal  it.  It  is  not  usual  for  a  thief — that 
is  what  you  called  me  just  now — to  leave  footprints 
behind  him,  but  I  leave  mine ;  and,  mademoiselle,  I  am 
no  thief.  So,  now  you  may  move,  if  you  choose. 
I  go  away.  By  and  by  I  come.  No  one  is  stronger 
than  I  am,  and  one  must  be  that  to  cross  my  will. 
Goo'-by." 

Jaffray  heard  the  key  turn  slowly,  the  door  open 


THE  FLAME  D'ANCER 

and  close,  the  patter  of  Struh-La's  feet  on  the  marble 
corridor,  and  the  slam  of  the  lift  door.  He  darted 
to  the  window  in  time  to  see  Struh-La  come  out  of 
the  hotel  and  walk  away.  He  wondered  what  the 
footprints  were  that  the  Oriental  man  said  he  had 
left  behind  him.  At  least,  to  see  Struh-La  actually 
seemed  to  put  a  necessary  touch  of  life  to  what  he  had 
overheard.  He  crossed  back  to  the  little  closet;  he 
heard  her  sobbing  convulsively;  he  caught  words  fall- 
ing from  her  lips.  What  were  they?  What  did 
Bertha  Wilmerding  say  ?  This  is  all  that  the  detective 
heard;  it  came  weakly,  as  from  one  waking  out  of 
sleep,  brokenly,  between  tears: 

"You  said  no  one  is  stronger  than  you  are,  but — < 
love  is." 

And  Jim  McAlpin  put  number  42  in  proper  shape 
and  left  the  Alexandra;  but  he  left  his  best  with  the 
sobbing  woman  in  Room  Number  40. 


319 


T.HE   FLAME   DANCER 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   SOULS 

AT  a  quarter  past  eight,  in  her  parlor  at  the 
Alexandra,  Bertha  Wilmerding  was  antici- 
pating Jaffray's  visit  with  a  strange  mixture 
of  delight  and  solicitude.  She  had  never  before  found 
herself  in  any  position  of  this  kind,  odd  as  it  may 
appear  for  a  woman,  not  without  her  attractions,  by 
any  means,  and  of  twenty-six  years  of  age.  Still,  the 
fact  remains,  as  has  before  been  intimated,  Bertha 
had  not  had  an  episode  of  love.  At  last  it  had  come, 
and  her  features  -wore  a  marvelously  softened  ex- 
pression; her  eyes  shone,  not  only  with  the  anxieties 
of  a  passionate  and  yearning  nature,  but  with  the 
craving  most  women  have  for  the  tenderness  and  care 
of  man.  If  Bertha  Wilmerding  was  ever  to  be  called 
a  pretty  woman  it  must  be  to-day. 

She  was  beautifully  gowned,  and  she  stood,  now  at 
the  window,  now  near  the  beautiful  flowers  Jaffray 
had  sent  her,  her  pulses  throbbing,  her  temples  ach- 
ing, not  only  with  anticipation,  but  with  the  weird 
memory  of  Struh-La's  visit.  It  was  impossible  for 

320 


THE  FLAME  'DA'NCER 

her  to  shake  off  entirely,  it  seemed,  the  spell  of  his 
Oriental  presence.  Do  what  she  would,  Struh-La 
dominated  Bertha  Wilmerding;  and,  instead  of  put- 
ting the  box  of  jewels  out  of  her  sight,  she  found 
herself  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  keep  it  in  sight.  There 
was  a  knock,  she  opened,  and  he  was  with  her. 

Miss  Wilmerding  had  taken  her  position  by  its 
reins,  and,  whip  in  hand,  had  stepped  out  from  the 
long  ranks  of  to-be  chaperoned  girls  into  the  frank 
file  of  those  who  consider  themselves  old  enough  quite 
"to  go  it  alone,"  as  Bertha  herself  called  it.  She  had 
fetched  letters  to  the  proprietor  of  the  Alexandra  from 
friends  of  his  in  Saratoga,  which  established  her 
status,  and  there  was  no  question  at  all  about  Miss 
Wilmerding  in  the  place  where  she  had  seen  fit  to 
pitch  her  temporary  tent. 

Jaffray  took  the  two  hands  extended  to  him  in 
both  of  his.  He  said  nothing  at  first,  but  stood  look- 
ing long  and  earnestly  down  into  Bertha's  face.  She, 
in  turn,  was  looking  at  him.  He  was  good  to  look 
at — handsome,  clean-cut,  square  of  jaw,  sweet  of 
smile;  eyes  capable  of  deep  tenderness,  yet  of  steely 
implacability. 

"Oh !"  whispered  the  girl,  at  last,  not  drawing  away 
from  his  grasp.  "It  is  so  nice  to  see  you  again!" 

321 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Is  it — really?"  he  answered,  much  more  in  his 
tone  than  his  words. 

"Yes." 

He  led  her  to  the  sofa  and  seated  her,  piling-  up 
the  cushions  at  her  back  and  for  her  arms  to  rest  upon, 
and  throwing  a  big  one  down  for  her  feet;  then  he 
drew  up  an  armchair  and  sat  down  close  in  front 
of  her. 

She  pointed  to  the  flowers  in  a  big  pitcher  on  the 
centre-table. 

The  man  from  headquarters  smiled.  "You  were 
kind  to  keep  them  all  day." 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  shall  keep  one  or  two  of 
them,  always." 

"No !"  he  laughed.    "They're  not  worth  it." 

"But  the  sender  is." 

"Thank  you."    His  glance  met  hers. 

Then  she  said  suddenly:  "Tell  me,  how  did  you 
Know?  I  mean,  how  did  you  find  out  I  was  here  at 
this  house?"  She  regarded  him  curiously  for  a 
minute. 

Jaffray  smiled  a  bit  deprecatorily.  "You  forget 
that  I  am  a  detective.  Detectives  always  can  find  out 
where  people  are." 

"Oh!"  she  laughed  uneasily,  if  good-humoredly. 
"I  see!" 

322 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"You  had  forgotten  my — er — profession,  I  believe, 
they  like  to  call  it,  hadn't  you?"  he  asked  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Yes,  entirely,"  was  the  reply.  "Why  should  I  be 
remembering  it?  I  know  you  as  yourself,  and  I  don't 
care  a  bit  whether  you  are  a  detective  or — a " 

"Or  a  gentleman!"  he  finished  for  her,  with  a  little 
laugh. 

"I  was  not  going  to  say  that,"  she  cried  out  eagerly. 

"No,  but  you  thought  it."  His  voice  held  a  pained 
consciousness  in  it  of  the  facts  of  their  differing  social 
conditions. 

"No,  no,  no !"  she  went  on  vehemently,  "nothing  of 
the  sort.  You  are  a  gentleman,  and  as  to  the  rest  of 
it — if  you  drove  a  cab,  or  were  a  motorman,  I  should 
not  care!"  It  was  true.  Shallow,  unscrupulous  as 
she  had  been  up  to  now,  the  fact  of  this  man's  caring 
for  her  had  set  Bertha  a  new  and  wholesomer  pace. 
'As  he  talked,  she  loathed  her  past.  As  her  eyes  fell 
upon  the  sealed  box,  a  great  anguished  wave  swept 
over  her — and,  riding  on  its  crest,  she  still  beheld 
Struh-La's  eyes. 

Jaffray  answered  Bertha  this  way:  "Would  you?" 
His  tone  was  soft,  insistent. 

"Yes,"  the  girl  said,  and  her  hand  lay  near  to  his. 

323 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

His  fingers  closed  over  hers,  as  he  said :  "I  dare  not 
believe  that." 

She  laid  her  other  hand  in  his  timidly ;  he  held  them 
both,  stroking  them  a  little  as  he  spoke.  "Tell  me, 
how  did  you  get  on  coming  across  the  continent?" 

"Nicely,  no  trouble  at  all.  I  was  thinking  each 
day  that  I  would  meet  you  here." 

"Is  that  all  you  thought  of  ?" 

"Not  quite,"  she  smiled. 

"Your  affairs — of  course  you  thought  of  them?" 

She  nodded. 

"Are  you  having  any  difficulty  about  your — legacy, 
was  it  not?"  Bertha  got  up  and  crossed  the  room; 
then  she  said,  almost  as  if  defying  some  unseen  per- 
son: "My  uncle  left  me  just  $2,000,  Mr.  Jaffray.  The 

other  was — a  mistake,  and "     She  hesitated  and 

stopped. 

"Tell  me  about  it;  that  is,  if  you  care  to." 

"I  care  to,  but  you  would  not  be  interested." 

"In  anything  that  concerns  you,"  he  replied,  with 
profound  meaning.  "Allow  me!"  he  sprang  up  and 
drew  down  the  shade,  as  he  noted  the  sun  shining 
directly  in  her  eyes.  When  he  returned,  he  stood 
before  her  as  if  eagerly  waiting  for  something  he 
dared  not  put  into  words. 

"Do  you  mean  that?"  Bertha  asked  earnestly. 

324 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

"I  do,"  was  his  response.  "I  never  meant  anything 
more  in  my  life!"  He  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  room,  his  eyes  traveling  away  from  her,  here, 
there,  everywhere  about  her  belongings.  His  air  and 
manner  were  those  of  a  man  under  deep  emotion  and 
as  deep  a  restraint.  Then  his  searching  glance  found 
the  box.  It  was  an  ordinary  tin  box,  with  a  double 
padlock,  it  is  true,  and  the  padlock  was  sealed  with 
blue  wax  from  Miss  Wilmerding's  tray  on  the  desk, 
and  the  detective's  piercing  eyes  beheld  the  dragon  of 
Struh-La's  watch-fob  on  the  seal. 

To  see  is  a  splendid  confirmation  of  to  hear.  All 
the  instincts  of  his  work  rushed  to  the  front  as  he 
saw  that  box  and  realized  its  contents.  But  the 
woman?  Just  now  she  was  paramount  with  Jaffray. 
Just  how  would  he  become  possessed  of  that  box? 
Would  she  confide  it  to  him?  Could  it  be  possible 
that  in  her  desire  to  do  right  and  to  repair  wrong 
she  would  hand  over  to  the  detective  in  the  case  the 
wonderful  Stevens- Austin  jewels?  How  should  he 
take  them?  Because  Jaffray's  mind  was  made  up 
not  to  leave  number  42  without  taking  the  box  that 
Struh-La  had  sealed  with  him,  and  he  also  intended 
to  follow  Stevens'  instructions  to  the  letter  and  "im- 
plicate no  woman."  He  glanced  at  Bertha.  Her  eyes 
were  down,  her  hands  were  clasped  and  moving  un- 

325 


ZHE  FLAME  DANCER 

easily  in  her  lap;  she  breathed  heavily,  as  if  she  strug- 
gled for  air  enough.  In  a  flash  Jaffray  recalled  the 
words  of  the  man  from  the  Orient:  "Mademoiselle, 
you  will  always  do  my  bidding;"  in  the  same  flash 
Bertha  thought  she  heard  those  same  words  in  her 
ears. 

Jaffray  sprang  to  her  side  and  said:  "If  it  is  true 
that  the  inferiority  of  my  social  position  is  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  you,  why  don't  you  make  me  be- 
lieve it?" 

"How  can  I?"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  wistful,  dazed 
way. 

"You  have  no  confidence  in  me,"  he  retorted. 

"But  I  have,  I  have." 

He  said  rather  sadly:  "I  understand.  I  suppose 
now,  if  there  were  things  to  be  attended  to  in  your 
business  matters,  say,  you  would  not  permit  me  to 
do  anything  to  serve  you,  as  you  would  doubtless  al- 
low the  other  men  you  know,  to  do?"  There  was  a 
gravity  in  his  voice  which  smote  her,  and  yet  it  was 
with  a  very  apparent  effort  that  she  replied : 
[i  "But  I  would;  indeed  I  would!"  adding:  "'Other 
men?'  There  are  none!"  But  her  eyes  went  straight 

to  the  tin  box,  and  there  Struh-La's  soft  eyes  seemed 
I 
to  her  to  meet  and  vanquish  her  endeavors. 

326 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Dare  I  believe  that?"  Jaffray  knelt  beside  the  sofa 
where  she  sat. 

The  girl  put  out  her  arms  with  an  impulsive  move- 
ment. "Don't  you  believe  it  now?"  she  whispered, 
while  within  her  waged  the  war  between  truth  and 
the  living  a  lie,  between  her  soul  and  the  soul  of  the 
man  from  the  Chinese  mountains. 

Jaffray  forgot  Struh-La,  he  forgot  the  box,  the 
jewels,  as  he  spoke,  drawing  away  a  bit:  "I  don't 
[forget  Stevens." 

The  blood  rushed  tingling  through  all  her  veins ;  he 
was  jealous,  the  most  exquisite  triumph  of  a  fine 
man's  or  a  fine  woman's  love,  and  also  the  most  rel- 
ished desire  of  the  lowest  feeling  that  goes  by  the 
same  name. 

"But,"  she  whispered,  bending  above  him,  "I  did 
not  love  him." 

"You  were  going  to  marry  him  for  money,  then?" 
was  the  rejoinder,  and  it  was  a  bit  savage.  Jaffray 
was  merciless  and  exacting  and  bound  to  succeed 
with  a  perfect  security. 

She  took  his  hands  and  held  them  to  her  heart. 
He  trembled. 

"I  feel  it;  but  I  feel  that  you  don't  trust  me." 

She  said  in  a  low  voice:  "I  do  trust  you  in  every 
way." 

327 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER  I 

r\ 

"You  do?  You  believe  that  I  would  not  betray 
your  trust?  Take  care  how  you  answer;  remember 
I  am  a  detective,"  he  looked  at  her,  "as  well  as  the 
man  who  loves  you." 

She  drew  back  a  little ;  she  could  not  have  told  why, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  some  unseen  person  were  pulling 
her  back  from  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  Then  she 
asked :  "Did  you  really  come  here  to  be — near  me  ?" 

"I  did." 

"For  no  other  reason?  Not  to  look  after  whoever 
stole  the  Austin  jewels?" 

"Primarily  to  be  near  you,  as  near  as  I  dared  and 

could.      Secondarily   I   was  employed  to "      He 

stopped  short,  and,  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
strode  away  from  the  sofa. 

"Pshaw!"  he  added,  "what  do  you  care  about  my 
intimate  personal  matters?" 

"You  are  mistaken.  All  that  interests  you  interests 
me.  Won't  you  tell  me?"  pleadingly,  and  walking 
over  to  him. 

"What?" 

"About  your  other  errand  over  here  in  California? 
It's  your  work,  so  I  care  to  hear  it." 

"Do  you?"  he  exclaimed  in  a  rejoiced  way.  "Well, 
Stevens  employed  me  to  try  to  find  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges." 

328 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"Oh,  and  the  jewels?"  she  inquired. 

"The  jewels,"  he  repeated  meditatively.  "Well,  yes, 
of  course.  You  see,  I  tell  you  things  I  would  not  tell 
to  any  other  human  being,  since  you  care " 

"Oh,  so  much!"  Her  arm  rested  on  his  as  she 
spoke  and  her  eyes  shone  with  excitement  and  the 
tension  of  her  feelings. 

"Do  you  care?"  the  man  from  headquarters  ejac- 
ulated tensely.  He  had  no  wish  to  touch  her;  he  had 
only  the  fighting  instinct  aroused  in  him;  he  was  con- 
scious that  the  combat  was  on  between  his  love  and 
Struh-La's  will,  and,  at  the  same  time,  he  knew  that 
the  girl  herself  alone  could  decide. 

"The  jewels  are  what  I'm  after,  too;  at  least,  in  a 
certain  sense,"  he  went  on,  because  Bertha  was  silent. 
"We  are  trying  to  locate  the  jewels,  as  that  is  the 
surest,  in  fact,  perhaps  the  only  way  to  locate  Miss 
de  Fontanges,  and  Miss  de  Fontanges  is  what  Stevens 
wants." 

"But,"  she  panted,  creeping  closer  to  him,  "she  did 
not  take  them;  she  hasn't  got  them."  Then  Bertha 
stopped  short  and  laughed  aloud. 

"Of  course,"  she  added,  "no  one  knows  who  has 
them." 

JafTray  watched  her  intensely;  his  hand  lay  on  the 
tin  box,  upon  the  dragon  seal  itself.  Bertha's  glance 

329 


T.HE  'FL'A'MEJD'A'NCER 

•*&>- 

traveled  there,  too;  she  tried  to  pull  herself  together; 
she  even  rose  and  went  close  to  the  box  and  Jaff ray ; 
then  she  finally  spoke,  rather  hesitatingly:  "Do  you 
suspect  any  one  of  having  them?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

"Who?"  she  inquired,  almost  wrenching  the  word 
from  her  shut  lips. 

"To  tell  you  would  be  a  breach  of  professional 
faith,  it  would  be  to  break  my  word;  it  might  lead  to 
disaster." 

"Betty  Austin  is  my  dearest  friend."  The  girl 
spoke  irrelevantly,  as  if  some  force  had  deflected  her 
from  another  purpose. 

"I  know  that.    The  Austins  are  here." 

"I  know  they  are." 

"You  do?  I  fancied  you  would  not,  because  of 
[Mr.  Austin?" 

"Forrie  doesn't  count  with  his  wife  very  much. 
She  phoned  over  this  morning  and  asked  me  for 
idinner  this  evening." 

"Are  you  going?"  His  tone  was  quick,  almost 
sharp. 

She  looked  at  him.  "I  told  Betty  I'd  go,  but  I'll 
not  go  if  you  don't  wish  me  to." 

He  hesitated  an  instant,  and  said :  "I  think  I  do  wish 
you  to." 

330 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Then  I'll  go.  You  see  I  am  ready  to  do  anything1 
'for  you  that  I  can." 

"It's  that  I  wish  to  serve  and  do  for  you." 

She  seemed  to  regard  him  carefully.  Even  the  in- 
tense fascination  which  he  possessed  for  her,  his 
beauty,  his  mentality,  his  strength  all  went  for  little 
or  nothing.  She  longed  to  creep  close  to  him  and  tell 
him  her  all,  but  she  was  powerless  to  do  it;  powerless 
to  hand  him  the  tin  box  utterly. 

"Do  you?"  she  at  last  said. 

"Yes,"  emphatically.  "Is  there  nothing  that  I  can 
do  for  you,  spare  you?  Prove  to  me  that  you  really 
have  some  regard  for  me  by  trusting  me  to  take  care 
of  you."  His  gentleness  was  unmistakable.  Then 
there  came  a  pause. 

"There  is  something,"  she  ejaculated,  going  across 
the  room  unsteadily,  her  gaze  wavering  and  her  hands 
twisting  uneasily  together,  just  as  little  Jean  Austin's 
hands  had  twisted  the  night  that  Struh-La  had  led 
her  through  his  imaginary  flower-garden.  Jaffray's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  the  blood  was  deep  in  his 
face,  he  stood  stolidly  motionless,  watching  her. 
Once  at  the  table,  she  tried  to  raise  her  hands,  but 
could  not;  she  looked  around  helplessly,  but  the  de- 
tective did  not  stir.  What  he  did  was  done  in  a  sense 
along  the  lines  of  the  man  he  was  fighting,  the  strange, 

331 


(THE  FLAME  DANCER 

illimitable  lines  of  the  human  mind.  Bertha  fell  upon 
her  knees;  her  head  struck  the  edge  of  the  table,  but 
not  to  bruise;  her  eyes  were  on  a  level  with  the  tin 
box.  Again  she  essayed  to  touch  it;  again  she  failed, 
and  sank  back  hopelessly. 

"Help  me !"  she  cried  out  piteously. 

"I  am  helping  you,  dear,"  Jaffray  answered,  with- 
out stirring.  "I  love  you." 

Then  Bertha,  with  a  supreme  effort,  rose  from  her 
knees,  reached  out,  and  took  up  the  tin  box  and  held 
it  toward  the  detective. 

"It's  this,"  she  said.     "It  is  locked." 

"Yes,"  was  his  reply,  "and  what  can  I  do  about  it 
for  you?  You  have  lost  your  keys  and  think  a  de- 
tective," he  smiled  a  bit,  "is  just  the  man  to  force  it 
open  for  you.  Is  that  it?" 

"No!"  Putting  her  hand  in  her  pocket  she  drew 
out  two  keys  tied  together.  "I  want  you  to  take  care 
of  it;  will  you?" 

There  was  a  pause;  then  the  man  from  headquar- 
ters said :  "Yes,  I  will  take  care  of  it." 

"You  see,"  she  went  on,  "it  is  so  heavy." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  his  eyes  fastened  upon 
her  face. 

"I  am  going  home,  now,  to  my  mother,"  Bertha 
said. 

332 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

The  quick  rejoinder  was:  "I  am  going  East,  too, 
to-morrow." 

"Are  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?"     She  looked  down  and  she  was  shivering. 

"Because  there  will  be  no  occasion  for  me  to  stop 
here  after  you  leave." 

"Oh!"  She  did  not  even  smile.  "That  box  was  a 
burden  to  me.  I  am  afraid  something  will  happen 
to  it.  You  understand  how  having  charge  of  the 
box  weighed  upon  me,  don't  you?"  The  great  appeal 
was  no  greater  than  the  answering  throb  to  it  in  his 
heart. 

"I  do,"  he  said. 

"I  am  afraid  of  that  tin  box!"  Miss  Wilmerding 
spoke  hurriedly.  Even  as  she  uttered  the  words  she 
laid  her  hands  upon  it,  and,  moving  as  if  guided  by 
some  external  force,  she  tried  to  lift  it;  she  sighed, 
shrank  from  it,  and  again  attempted  to  carry  the 
box  away.  Jaffray  watched  her,  and  then  he  cried 
out,  lifting  it  from  her.  "This  is  in  my  care  now, 
Bertha." 

"I  know,"  she  answered.  "I  will  leave  here  to- 
morrow for  New  York." 

"I  will  leave  here  when  you  do,"  was  Jaffray's  an- 
swer. "I  will  start  in  a  train  right  after  yours." 

333 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

"And — there's  more."     She  hesitated  painfully. 

"Tell  it  me,"  he  responded  gently;  then  he  fixed 
his  eyes  on  her  face.  "Tell  me  all  there  is  to  tell, 
can't  you?  Won't  you?"  There  was  a  peculiarly 
dominant  note  in  his  voice. 

Bertha  stared  at  him,  and  her  lips  parted,  quivered, 
but  no  sound  came  from  them. 

"Try,  dear."  Jaffray  set  down  the  box  and  made 
to  put  his  arms  around  her.  Instantly  the  girl  darted 
from  him  and  seized  the  box. 

"I  must!"  she  whispered,  "I  must,  I  must  do  as  I 
am  told."  Then  she  fell  to  crying. 

Jaffray  by  sheer  force  wrested  the  tin  box  from  her 
and  took  her  in  his  arms.  "You  must  not,"  he  mur- 
mured. "My  dear,  my  dear,  wake  up.  I  am  with 
you;  you  are  safe  and  free.  No  one  can  coerce  you. 

I "  He  held  her  face  up  to  the  strong  light  and 

looked  into  her  eyes.  "I  understand.  Can't  you  trust 
me?" 

"Yes.  I  do."  But  she  shuddered  even  as  she  drew 
closer  in  his  embrace. 

Then  Jaffray  laid  her  down  among  the  cushions  of 
the  so^a  and  kissed  her.  He  had  the  tin  box  in  his 
hands  as  he  bent  above  her. 

"Bertha,"  he  said  very  gravely.  "I  am  taking  this 
and  all  your  other  troubles  away  with  me.  You  are 

334 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

going  to  the  Austins'  to  dine;  I  shall  be  there  later. 
.We  shall  see  each  other  again,  therefore,  before  very 
long.  Rest  now  and  think  no  more  about" — he  paused 
• — "any  one  but  me."  He  was  out  of  the  door.  She 
sprang  after  him  into  the  corridor  with  an  almost 
savage  desperation,  her  hands  out  to  recover  Struh- 
La's  treasures,  her  soul  still  at  the  beck  of  Struh-La's 
will;  but  Jaffray,  as  he  got  into  the  lift,  merely 
laughed  a  little  as  he  touched  his  hat,  and  Bertha 
retreated  to  her  parlor.  She  stood  still.  As  the  dying 
are  said  to  behold  in  a  flash  the  whole  of  their  lives, 
this  girl  beheld  hers.  Gradually  the  psychic  clutch 
loosened  from  her;  she  was  presently  on  her  knees 
praying,  and  Bertha  Wilmerding  had  not  prayed  be- 
fore in  many  years. 


T.HE  FLAME  DANCER 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE   THIEF. 

AS  soon  as  Jaffray  left  Miss  Wilmerding,  he  went 
directly  to  his  room  down  by  the  river  on 
Merchant  Street,  having  first  called  up  Jer- 
myn  and  a  local  detective  on  the  phone  at  the  corner 
drug-store. 

When  Jermyn  came  he  sent  him  at  once  to  China- 
town to  find  Stevens.  He,  Jaffray,  said: 

"When  you  reach  Mr.  Stevens,  ask  him  from  me 
to  be  at  Mrs.  Austin's  rooms  at  the  Palace  this  eve- 
ning by  eight-thirty." 

"All  right,  sir.  Where  shall  I  report  after  finding 
Mr.  Stevens  and  delivering  your  message?" 

"At  the  Palace." 

"Yes,  sir."    Jaffray  went  away. 

To  the  other  detective  Jaffray  said:  "You  come 
with  me,  and  remember  your  work  to-night  is  to  be 
my  shadow,  to  protect  me  and  whatever  I  have  about 
me.  Watch  out  now,  no  matter  where  we  go,  and  if 
you  see  the  hint  of  a  threat,  act.  I'm  usually  able  to 
take  care  of  myself,  but  the  time  has  come  when  I'm 
not." 

336 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

"O.  K.,  Mr.  Jaffray.  Any  other  name  for  you, 
sir?" 

"No,  I'm  myself  this  evening." 

"Shall  I  carry  that,  sir?" 

"No.  Now,  the  last  word.  If  you  see  any  one 
making  for  that,  shoot  low."  Jaffray  indicated  the 
box. 

"Man  or  woman,  sir?" 

"Man." 

"No  women  in  this  deal,  sir?" 

"No." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Jaffray." 

"We'll  get  into  a  cab  and  drive  around.  Had  your 
supper?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  then,  we'll  stop  at  Tate's;  get  out  and  eat 
what  you  want." 

"You,  sir?" 

"I'll  sit  in  the  cab  with  this." 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  the  detective's  elec- 
tric slowed  up  before  the  Palace  grill  door,  but  neither 
of  the  occupants  got  out.  Orders  were  given  to  the 
chauffeur  and  he  kept  his  vehicle  moving  slowly 
around  in  and  out  of  a  radius  of  a  couple  of  blocks. 

Meantime,  Bertha  Wilmerding,  pallid  and  trem- 
bling with  strange,  new  joys  and  stranger  anxieties, 

337 


had  been  dining  with  the  Austins;  that  is  to  say,  she 
had  been  dining  with  Betty  and  little  Jean.  De  For- 
rest Austin,  as  soon  as  he  found  out  that  she  abso- 
lutely was  to  dine  with  his  wife,  took  up  his  hat. 

"Going  out,  Forrie?    It's  nearly  dinner-time." 

"Aware  of  it,  but  I  think  I  told  you  I  would  not 
stand  for  Miss  Wilmerding." 

"But,  Forrie,  I'm  fond  of  Bertha." 

"Sorry  for  you!" 

"So  am  I,  mother."    Jean  took  her  father's  hand. 

Betty  said :  "Hush,  Jean." 

Mr.  Austin  said  "Good  evening"  to  his  wife. 

"Where  are  you  going,  father?"  the  child  asked. 

"Chinatown.  I've  not  seen  that  sight  yet.  Good- 
by,  little  girl." 

"Father,"  whispered  the  child,  "that's  where  my 
Miss  de  Fontanges  is.  Couldn't  you  try  to  find  her?" 

"Maybe."  He  stooped  and  kissed  his  daughter's 
cheek,  then  made  off. 

"I  suppose  Forrie'll  never  speak  to  me  again?" 
Miss  Wilmerding  remarked,  as,  having  dined  below  in 
the  dazzle  of  the  big  room,  where  the  crowd  had  failed 
to  exhilarate  her,  they  now  sat  together  in  the  Aus- 
tins' parlor. 

"Oh,  yes,  he  will,  dear;  Forrie's  not  a  bad  sort, 
after  all." 

338 


THE  FL'AME   D'ANCER 

Then  Bertha  said  in  a  low  tone:  "How  about  the 
governess  ?" 

Betty  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I  don't  know. 
Reggie's  here,  bound  to  find  her,  but  he  doesn't  seem 
to  make  much  headway." 

"And  the  jewels?"  Bertha's  breath  came  so  that 
she  almost  choked  as  she  asked. 

"My  dear,  I  cried  my  eyes  out  about  them — it 
wasn't  mal  apropos;  you  know  every  one  thought  I 
was  shedding  tears  about  my  poor  father-in-law,  so 
it  happened  quite  nicely." 

"Yes,  to  be  sure.    How  did  you  manage  that?" 

"Why,  Jaffray  had  it  in  charge.  He  always  man- 
ages everything  he  undertakes,  you  know." 

Miss  Wilmerding  smiled.  "Yes,"  she  replied,  "I 
think  he  does." 

"Well,  dearest,  in  justice  to  Jaffray,  I  sent  him  out- 
side about  Mr.  Austin,  you  know,  and  so  I  can't 
blame  him,  no  matter  how  much  my  husband  does." 

"You  never  told  Forrie,  then?"  Bertha  asked. 

"Hardly." 

"I  did,"  remarked  Jean  quietly,  looking  up  from 
her  food. 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?*'  inquired  the  mother 
in  shocked  amazement. 

339 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

"Because  I  like  Jaffray.  He's  a  trump,  and  I 
wouldn't  sit  there  and  hear  father  abusing  him." 

"Indeed!"     Betty  Austin  was  angry. 

Bertha  said  in  a  quiet  way :  "Thank  you,  Jean." 

Betty  said:  "What  for?" 

"Mr.  Jaffray  is — a — gentleman,"  Bertha  retorted. 

"Yes,  by  birth  and  education;  college-bred  Harvard 
man.  He's  here,  you  know?  Reggie  sent  him  here 
to  discover  Miss  de  Fontanges.  Did  you  know  he  was 
here?"  Betty  stared;  so  did  Jean. 

"I  have  seen  him."  Bertha  spoke  so  gently  that 
Mrs.  Austin  was  more  and  more  astounded. 

"What  do  you  mean?  Bertha  Wilmerding,  tell  me." 
Betty  now  scintillated  with  excited  curiosity. 

"Nothing." 

"Yes,  you  do!    Bertha,  not  really  engaged?" 

"So  he  says." 

"But  when  did  he  ever  get  to  see  you?"  Betty's 
surprise  grew. 

"Some  men  decide  some  things  very  quickly." 

"My  dear,  and  you  just  come  into  your  nice  little 
fortune — and  this,  too!" 

Bertha  winced.  She  prayed  that  Jaffray  would 
soon  come.  She  felt  the  need  of  him,  and  her  won- 
der was  intense  as  to  the  box. 

340 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

"His  mother  was  a  Peyton-Berkely  of  Virginia," 
Betty  continued. 

"Certainly  she  was." 

"It's  so  surprising.  I  fancied  you'd  always  go  in 
for  money,  Bertha  dear,  but  of  course  you've  got 
enough  for  two." 

Bertha  got  up  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  window, 
glancing  nervously  out  as  she  spoke.  "The  man  who 
lets  a  wife  support  him  is  just  about  one-half  a  man. 
The  minute  her  hand  goes  out  to  give,  and  his  to  re- 
ceive, good-by  to  the  real  relations  that  ought  to  exist 
between  husband  and  wife." 

"Bertha!  You  talk  like  books."  Betty  laughed  and 
stared  at  her  friend. 

The  child  said,  looking  up  from  hers :  "Miss  Bertha 
talks  the  truth.  I  never  supposed  she  had  so  much 
grit.  When  I  get  grown  up  and  marry,  I'd  rather 
marry  a  stone-cutter  and  have  him  bring  me  home  his 
wages  for  us  to  live  on  than  be  a  great  heiress  and 
deal  out  money  to  my  husband.  Father  says  he  wishes 
he  had  been  a  stone-cutter,  too!" 

There  was  a  little  silence  between  the  two  women, 
when  the  telephone-bell  rang  and  Jean  sprang  to  an- 
swer it.  Childlike,  she  was  fond  of  talking  by  wire. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  by  common  consent  the  two 
grown  people  ceased  their  chat;  perhaps  each  found 

341 


T.HE  FLAME   DANCER 

a  diversion  rather  convenient.  Jean  addressed  her 
mother,  but  she  glanced  at  Miss  Wilmerding.  "Mr.. 
Jaffray  wishes  to  know  if  he  can  see  you  alone  for  a 
few  moments,  mother?" 

"Yes,"  hesitating  and  looking  at  the  other  woman. 

"Well,  mother?"  the  child  now  asked  impatiently. 
"Is  Mr.  Jaffray  to  come  up  or  isn't  he?" 

"Yes!  yes!  he's  to  come  up,  of  course." 

"Show  Mr.  Jaffray  up,  please,"  she  called  down. 

Bertha  instantly  rose.  She  had  regained  her  out- 
ward poise,  although  her  heart  throbbed  to  suffoca- 
tion. She  felt  an  impending  crisis;  it  almost  touched 
her  on  the  shoulder;  she  had  one  impulse  to  run,  to 
escape  off  into  the  unknown,  to  lose  herself  in  the 
wide  world  somewhere  and  never  again  to  look  into 
the  face  of  the  man  she  loved.  All  the  best,  the 
purest  in  her,  all  the  long  dormant  and  submerged 
elements  of  a  real  womanhood  flooded  to  the  fore, 
and  her  shame  and  humiliation  were  incalculable. 

Betty  said:  "Nonsense,  dear,  don't  leave  the  room. 
Mr.  Jaffray  can  have  nothing  to  say  to  me  that  he 
would  not  wish  you  to  hear." 

"I'd  rather  go,"  Bertha  answered,  opening  the  door 
that  led  into  an  adjoining  room  of  the  suite. 

"Bertha  Wilmerding!"  Betty  Austin  ran  over  to 
her  friend  and  laid  both  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

342 


THE   FL'AME  DANCER 

"You're    so    changed;    you're    quite    another    girl. 
\Vhat's  come  over  you?" 

A  knock  at  the  other  door  came,  as  Bertha  replied 
in  a  low  voice,  while  she  shook  visibly:  "Yes,  I  am 
changed,"  and  disappeared.  Jean,  at  a  sign  from  her 
mother,  also  left  the  room,  following  Miss  Wilmer- 
ding,  and  Betty  herself  opened  the  door  for  Jaffray. 
He  was  alone ;  he  had  the  tin  box  in  his  hands,  and  he 
said:  "Mrs.  Austin,  Mr.  Stevens  is  here?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply,  "I  don't  know  where  Mr. 
Stevens  is,  but  of  course  you  know." 

Jaffray  looked  up  keenly.    "No,  I  do  not  know." 

"Perhaps  he's  playing  billiards." 

The  detective  muttered  an  offhand  "Pshaw!" 

And  Betty  inquired:  "Have  you  found  any  trace 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Fontanges?" 

"No.  I  have  found  the  jewels ;  here  they  are,"  He 
held  the  box  toward  her,  "all  of  them,  both  Mr.  Ste- 
vens' and  your  own.  Take  them,  don't  you  under- 
stand ?"  He  stared  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

For  Betty's  hands  did  not  go  out  to  receive  her  lost 
treasures.  There  was  no  particular  change  of  ex- 
pression on  her  face,  no  smile  or  astonishment,  cu- 
riosity or  gladness.  She  stood  still,  and  her  eyes  were 
down ;  she  said  nothing. 

343 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

With  an  instinct  of  alarm,  the  detective  sprang  to 
the  door,  opened  it,  ran  along  the  private  corridor  of 
the  suite,  opened  the  outer  door,  and  looked.  The 
only  person  visible  was  his  own  man,  who  nodded 
assuringly  to  him,  and  he  retraced  his  steps. 

Mrs.  Austin  stood  where  he  had  left  her,  but  now 
there  was  a  smile  on  her  lips  and  her  hand  was  ex- 
tended as  if  in  welcome,  or  as  if  holding  something 
in  it — in  fact,  although  Jaffray  did  not  know  it, 
Betty's  attitude  was  identically  the  one  she  had  pre- 
sented when  Reggie  Stevens  had  beheld  her  alone  in 
the  picture-gallery  on  the  night  the  jewels  disap- 
peared. 

The  detective  glanced  around ;  then  he  spoke,  some- 
what incisively :  "Mrs.  Austin,  will  you  open  the  box  ? 
Or  shall  I?" 

Betty  seemed  to  hesitate  before  she  said :  "Not  now, 
thank  you,"  but  she  did  not  stir  from  her  peculiar 
pose. 

Jaffray  stared  at  her ;  then  he  took  hold  of  her  arms 
and  said:  "Mrs.  Austin,  rouse  yourself.  Where  is 
Mr.  Austin?  Where  is  little  Jean?" 

Betty  nodded  toward  the  other  room  and  said :  "Mr. 
Austin  is  out;  he  has  gone  to  look  for  Miss  de  Fon- 
tanges,  I  think." 

Jaffray  then  touched  her  arm,  the  uplifted  one.  It 

344 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

was  rigid.  With  all  his  mighty  strength  he  could  not 
move  it,  nor  did  she  offer  the  least  resentment  at  his 
touch. 

"Mrs.  Austin!"  he  cried  out,  "let  us  open  the  box, 
the  jewels!  don't  you  comprehend,  are  here?  I  have 
recovered  them !" 

Jaffray  had  for  a  second  thought  of  Struh-La,  only 
to  dismiss  him  and  his  See-foo-tee  with  a  smile.  This 
woman  was  simply  paralyzed  with  the  joy  of  getting 
back  her  most  prized  possessions;  he  must  startle  her 
out  of  her  stupefaction.  He  made  to  break  the  seals 
on  the  tin  box,  and  then  Betty  Austin  exclaimed: 
"No,  please,  don't  do  that." 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  sharply. 

Mrs.  Austin  laughed  a  little;  then  she  nodded  to 
the  other  room  and  added :  "I  prefer  to  be  alone  now, 
and  there's  some  one  in  there  whom  you  will  be  glad 
to  see.  Go  in;  don't  knock,  just  go  in!" 

"Who  is  in  there?"  He  looked  at  Betty  earnestly. 
He  had  laid  the  tin  box  on  the  center-table.  Again 
the  remembrance  of  Struh-La  flashed  across  him,  and 
the  query  as  to  the  Oriental's  power  seemed  to  render 
other  matters  in  his  mind  somewhat  insignificant.  For 
instance,  he  forgot  to  go  out  and  warn  his  man  still 
further  about  not  admitting  any  one  to  Mrs.  Aus- 
tin's apartments  without  his  own  permission ;  he  forgot 

345 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

that  it  might  be  unwise  to  leave  Betty  alone  with  the 
tin  box;  he  forgot  that  the  rational  thing  to  do  would 
be  to  call  up  the  house  physician  to  see  Mrs.  Austin 
and  pronounce  upon  the  rigidity  of  her  right  arm, 
for  Betty  still  kept  her  unalterable  pose.  He  forgot 
most  things,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and,  follow- 
ing the  lead  of  Mrs.  Austin's  eyes,  Jaffray  walked  to 
the  opposite  door,  opened  it,  and  was  with  Bertha. 
Jean  had  proceeded  to  her  own  room  long  since. 

Betty  stood  still.  She  did  not  move  a  muscle;  her 
face  was  placid,  almost  expressionless;  her  glance 
wandered  over  to  her  harp  and  she  recollected  the 
music  Struh-La  used  to  make  so  distinctly  that  it  ap- 
peared to  her  that  she  saw  him  seated  there  sweeping 
the  gilded  strings  with  his  strong,  capable  hands.  To 
be  sure,  she  did  hear  his  music ;  yet  it  sounded  far  off, 
and,  what  nonsense !  he  was  not  here,  the  harp  leaned 
against  the  wall  in  its  case.  That  tin  box  on  the 
table?  To  be  sure,  Jaffray,  the  detective,  had  fetched 
that  in  and  said — what  had  Jaffray  said?  Betty  could 
not  just  then  recall  very  clearly  what  he  had  said, 
and  she  did  not  care.  Her  ear  was  caught  now  by  the 
sound  of  the  opening  and  closing  of  two  doors;  the 
subtle  perfume  of  some  strange  flower  or  essence 
greeted  her;  a  wave  of  warmth  enveloped  her  as 
might  have  the  folds  of  some  downy  mantle;  and 

346 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

Struh-La  stood  before  her.     She  smiled  as  she  looked 
at  him,  and  she  said : 

"You  have  come?" 

He  inclined  his  head. 

Bettty  glanced  over  at  the  harp. 

Struh-La  said :  "Oh,  no,  not  at  this  time." 

"Very  well." 

"You  are  alone?"  he  asked  quietly. 

She  nodded. 

"Where  are  the  people,  then?" 

Mrs.  Austin  stared  dully  and  was  silent,  her  hand 
still  uplifted  in  its  rigid  position. 

Struh-La  regarded  her ;  then  he  took  her  hand,  and 
his  mere  touch  seemed  to  release  it  from  its  bondage. 
She  sighed. 

"Now,"  he  went  on,  without  hurry  and  with  per- 
fect calmness.  "Where  is  your  husband?" 

Betty's  eyes  closed  heavily  and  her  head  turned  a 
trifle  as  if  she  were  seeking  something.  "He  is  wan- 
dering about  in  the  Chinese  quarter,  far  away." 

"And  Jean?" 

"Jean  is — in  her  room  with  her  maid." 

"And  Mr.  Stevens,  where  is  he?"  Struh-La  bent 
a  trifle  nearer  to  her  as  he  asked — his  whole  being 
eager  for  the  answer,  but  no  muscle  quivered,  no 
physical  attribute  betrayed  his  anxiety. 

347 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Betty  shook  her  head. 

"You  must,"  Struh-La  whispered. 

"I  can't,"  she  pleaded;  "it's  too  far,  too  hard;  I  lose 
my  way." 

"Find  it,"  he  urged,  touching  her  forehead  this 
time  with  the  tips  of  his  magical  fingers.  "You  have 
found  the  path!  now,  where  is  he?" 

"In  the  Chinese  city,  down,  down;  far  down;  three 
times  down." 

"No!"  ejaculated  Struh-La. 

"Yes,"  Betty  said.  "He  is  seeking  some  one;  he 
comes  very  near  to  her." 

Struh-La's  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Betty  Aus- 
tin's face.  At  this  point  he  seized  her  hands  in  his 
and  pressed  them  with  an  intensity  that  should  have 
pained,  against  his  forehead. 

"Lead  him  away,"  he  whispered.  "Lead  him  away! 
Take  hold  of  him  and  guide  him  up,  up;  do  as  I  say, 
lead  him  up;  tell  him  she  is  above,  not  below."  In  the 
voice  of  the  man  from  the  Orient  there  was  the  des- 
peration of  one  who  fought  his  last  fight  with  his 
last  ounce  of  ammunition.  "Does  he  go  with  you? 
Does  he  come  up  again?" 

Betty  inclined  her  head  slowly.  "He  comes  up 
again,  into  the  other  city,  the  city  we  live  in." 

Struh-La  released  his  hold  upon  her,  and  the  weary 

348 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

sigh  that  Betty  gave  was  echoed  by  him  as  a  sound 
of  profound  relief. 

"Now,"  he  went  on,  "tell  me  where  the  detective 
is." 

Betty  Austin  looked  at  the  opposite  door  as  she 
replied :  "He  is  in  there." 

Struh-La  retreated  with  a  bound.  It  was  the  back- 
ward spring  of  the  king  of  the  jungle  before  he  makes 
the  death-leap  on  his  prey.  The  red  rushed  to  his 
cheeks,  for  it  could ;  he  was  a  Lolos  man,  the  white 
man  of  North  China,  who  disdains  his  yellower  broth- 
ers; and  the  fire  in  his  tilted  eyes  flamed  up  as  the 
mystical  light  flames  in  the  heart  of  the  opal  stones. 
Every  drop  of  blood  in  him  sang  rejoicingly  at  this 
moment;  the  man  in  him  was  glad  with  an  exceeding 
gladness  that  this  other  man  was  only  divided  from 
him  by  a  bit  of  painted  wood.  He  had  hoped  it  would 
be  just  as  it  was. 

"Alone?"  he  inquired  softly. 

"No." 

"Who  is  with  him?" 

"Bertha  Wilmerding." 

Struh-La  smiled;  it  was  but  an  accentuation  of  his 
pleasure.  In  the  air,  with  his  forefinger,  he  traced 
a  triangle;  Betty,  Bertha,  Jaffray,  at  its  points  in  his 
imagery;  he  himself  in  the  middle  of  it,  able  to  lay 

349 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

a  hand  on  either  extremity,  and  able,  he  believed,  to 
control  all  three.  It  was  to  him  the  apex  of  his  climb 
of  life:  he  stood  at  the  top,  looking  down;  every  op- 
posing element  within  his  "control  and  Luliani  safe  in 
the  heart  of  his  mysterious  home;  he  breathed  big, 
deep,  and  full,  and  he  remembered  the  creed  of  his 
people,  that  a  whole  man  who  makes  use  of  his  whole 
endowments  is  a  small  piece  of  the  Infinite. 

"Tell  them  to  come  in  here,"  Struh-La  said  gently, 
glancing  toward  the  other  room. 

Betty  went  slowly  across  and  opened  the  door. 
"Come  in  here,"  she  said,  in  a  perfunctory  way. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  they  had  for  a  few  mo- 
ments forgotten  her  very  existence,  but  they  came  in. 

Struh-La  stood  near  the  table  on  which  the  tin 
box  lay;  in  fact,  his  hand,  finger-tips  down,  rested 
on  the  table  itself.  He  bowed  to  them  both.  Bertha 
returned  it  nervously,  the  detective,  whatever  his  sen- 
sations may  have  been,  was  not  taken  off  his  guard 
for  a  single  second.  With  perfect  self-possession 
Jaffray  went  directly  over  to  the  table,  his  quick  eye 
having  immediately  discerned  that  the  seals  had  not 
been  even  tampered  with,  and  he  instantly  said :  "Mr. 
Struh-La,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here.  I  have  just 
fetched  to  Mrs.  Austin  the  recovered  jewels,  all  of 
them."  The  detective's  manner  was  emphatic,  dis- 

350 


THE  'FL'AM'E  'D'ANCER 

missing,  as  it  were,  from  the  start,  any  demurrer  to 
his  side  of  a  possible  argument.  "Mrs.  Austin  has 
doubtless  told  you,  and  you  will  be  as  glad  as  any  of 
us  to  know  that  the  treasure  is  found." 

Bertha's  breath  came  quickly;  but,  notwithstanding 
the  ordeal  of  her  position,  she  fixed  her  eyes  in  a  su- 
preme confidence  on  Jaffray's  face.  Their  fifteen  min- 
utes alone  together  had  drawn  them  very  near  to  one 
another. 

Struh-La  replied  with  a  slow  shake  of  the  head, 
while  he  looked  steadily  at  Betty.  "No,  Monsieur 
Jaffray,  Mrs.  Austin  has  not  told  to  me  anything; 
there  you  are  incorrect.  I  am  glad  that  the  jewels,  all 
of  them,  are  where  they  are."  The  gaze  of  the  Ori- 
ental man  now  rested  upon  the  detective's  face.  Jaf- 
fray's eyes  in  turn  were  riveted  on  Struh-La.  Again 
for  the  space  of  a  few  seconds  it  was  a  strange,  silent 
struggle,  the  wordless  encounter  of  two  human  wills. 
Struh-La  broke  it  by  asking:  "Where,  then,  are  the 
jewels,  monsieur?" 

Betty  Austin  merely  stood  quietly  looking  on;  her 
demeanor  was  so  absolutely  negative  that  neither  the 
detective  nor  Bertha  observed  her  just  then. 

Jaffray  answered,  placing  his  hand  on  the  tin  box: 
"They  are  here." 

The  color  flooded  Bertha's  face;  she  feared  all  the 

351 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

things  that  might  come,  but  her  faith  was  pinned  on 
the  man  she  loved,  and  she  stood  stanch,  ready  to 
bear  whatever  might  arrive. 

"Are  you  then  sure  of  what  you  say?"  Struh-La 
regarded  Jaffray  with  a  piercing  glance. 

The  answer  came  at  once :  "Yes,  I  am  positive." 

Struh-La  took  Jaffray's  hand  between  his  fore- 
finger and  thumb  and  lifted  it  from  the  tin  box  with 
the  precision  and  coolness  of  a  scientist  handling  a 
subjective  specimen. 

The  detective  shook  him  off  and  sprang  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  looked  all  along  the  corridor.  His 
man  was  not  even  in  sight;  he  came  back.  Struh-La 
smiled  a  little. 

"You  see,  Monsieur  Jaffray,  when  there  is  a  game 
there  are  always  two  who  play — you  and  your  op- 
ponent. When  your  aide-de-camp  saw  me  enter  here 
where  he  knew  you  to  be,  he  fancied  me  safe  in  your 
hands  and  went  away.  He  was  right.  I  am  safe  in 
your  hands.  You  have  wished  to  arrest  me  for  many 
weeks.  You  think  you  can  do  so  now.  Well,  I 
think  not."  Jaffray  seized  the  tin  box  in  his  arms. 
Struh-La  shook  his  head,  and,  with  a  deft  motion,  he 
also  grasped  the  box. 

"Let  go !"  Jaffray  said  fiercely,  under  his  breath. 

The  Oriental  man  smiled. 

352 


THE  FL'AME   DANCER 

"Monsieur,  no.     I  will  not  let  go." 

"You  shall!"  The  detective  loosened  his  grasp  of 
the  tin  box  as  he  made  a  dart  at  the  Chinese  man's 
throat. 

By  a  twist  as  audacious  as  it  was  remarkable,  Struh- 
La,  gripping  the  cord  with  which  the  box  was  tied 
between  his  teeth,  landed  Jaffray  across  the  room  on 
a  spin.  Bertha  rushed  to  him:  he  waved  her  away. 

"No,  mademoiselle,  this  is  no  place  for  you,"  Struh- 
La  spoke,  and  then  he  took  the  box  in  his  hands  and 
turned  to  Jaffray.  "If,  monsieur,  as  you  say,  this 
contains  the  jewels  of  Mrs.  Austin,  and  if  to  her  you 
have  restored  them,  then  it  is  for  Mrs.  Austin  to  say; 
.what  shall  be  done  with  them,  eh?  Is  it  not?" 

Jaffray  made  a  dart  for  the  phone. 

Struh-La  proceeded:  "It  is  useless.  If  you  call 
up  here  the  whole  force  of  the  city  police,  you  cannot 
open  this  box  unless  I  say  so,  unless  Madam  Austin 
says  so,  and,"  he  added,  "you  know  it." 

Jaffray  fell  back:  even  Bertha  was  amazed  that  he 
should  do  so,  and  all  the  while  Betty  had  not  spoken. 
Now  Bertha  noticed  that. 

"These  seals  are  my  seals,"  the  man  from  China 
went  on.  "You  see?  Compare  them;  come  nearer," 
he  invited  Jaffray,  holding  up  to  his  gaze  both  his  own 
seal  at  his  fob  and  the  impressions  on  the  box. 

353 


T.HE.  FLAME   D'ANCER 

The  detective  looked,  and  then  he  did  lose  guard, 
for  his  eyes  inadvertently  turned  to  Bertha. 

Struh-La's  followed,  and  he  remarked,  in  a  casual 
tone:  "Mademoiselle  Wilmerding  also  can  see." 

Suddenly  Jaffray  recovered  himself;  with  a  visible 
effort  he  came  closer  to  the  Chinese  man,  and  said 
quickly:  "Don't  presume  to  address  Miss  Wilmer- 
ding. She  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  or  to  say  in 
this  matter.  The  jewels  were  stolen.  I  was  em- 
ployed to  recover  them.  I  have  done  so.  If  you  do 
not  give  them  up  at  once,  I  will  call,  or,  rather,  I  will 
settle  the  affair  with  you  myself." 

"I  will  not  give  them  up  to  you,"  Struh-La  spoke 
quietly. 

And  Jaffray,  with  a  desperately  apparent  effort, 
made  his  second  dash  at  his  antagonist.  His  mighty 
arm  was  up  to  strike,  when  Struh-La  smiled,  and 
•Bertha  beheld  her  lover  slowly  backing  away  from  the 
Chinese.  Struh-La  regarded  the  Western  man  with 
attention.  He  said:  "You  are  interesting,  very;  you 
are  a  fine  specimen  of  your  race.  I  like  your  audacity 
and  your  pluck  much ;  but  you  see  you  make  the  mis- 
take always  of  not  counting  on  having  an  opponent 
who  is  also  audacious.  Monsieur,  you  have  no  actual 
knowledge  of  what  this  box  contains.  You  have  never 
seen  it  open,  you  never  saw  anything  put  into  or  taken 

354 


THE  TL'AM'E  DANCER 

out  of  it;  in  short,  in  the  legal  aspect  of  the  situation, 
I  find  you  possessed  of,  and  giving  to  a  woman,  a 
piece  of  my  property,  marked  with  my  seals,  entrusted 
by  me  to  a  woman  from  whom  you  have  obtained  it. 
Is  not  this  a  truthful  presentation  of  the  case?"  Jaf- 
fray  winced. 

"You  cannot  say  or  swear  to  the  contrary  of  my 
assertions,  can  you?"  Struh-La  added  rather  loudly, 
.with  emphasis  and  decision. 

The  detective  pulled  himself  together  again  with 
evident  exertion,  and  answered :  "I  cannot  deny  your 
declarations,  but,  nevertheless,"  he  muttered  sullenly, 
"you  took  the  jewels." 

Struh-La  shook  his  head.  "No  one  took  them." 
He  inclined  his  head  toward  Betty,  who  at  once  ap- 
proached him.  Without  a  word,  she  took  up  her  scis- 
sors and  cut  the  cord  and  the  seals;  she  opened  the 
box,  and  began  to  take  out  the  treasure.  Struh-La 
stood  looking  at  her.  Bertha's  eyes  were  on  her,  so 
were  Jaffray's.  She  gathered  them  all  together,  one 
by  one,  and  put  them  on  carefully  and  with  accuracy — 
all,  that  is,  of  her  own;  the  coronet,  the  necklace, 
bracelets,  chains,  pins,  brooches,  while  they  watched 
her  in  a  kind  of  fascinated  astonishment. 

Once  they  were  all  on,  Betty  turned  and  lifted 
her  arm  up  in  the  identical  pose  which  Reggie  had 

355 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

seen  the  night  of  the  robbery,  and  then  she  cautiously 
removed  the  trinkets  and  heaped  them  up  in  Struh- 
La's  hands. 

"You  see,"  he  remarked,  "they  were  not  taken,  but 
given,  and  he  laid  them  on  the  table. 

Jaffray  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  He  moved 
with  an  effort ;  he  whispered  to  Bertha:  "Go  away, 
and  take  her  with  you.  Go!" 

Bertha  went  to  Betty,  and  gently  essayed  to  lead 
her. 

"Take  her  away!"  thundered  Jaffray,  but  he  did  not 
himself  move  from  where  he  stood. 

Neither  did  Betty,  until  Struh-La,  gathering  the 
Austin  jewels  in  his  hands,  gave  them  to  her,  and  said 
to  Bertha  Wilmerding : 

"Yes,  take  her  away." 

The  two  women  left  the  room. 

"Now!"  the  detective  exclaimed,  his  breatH  com- 
ing thick  and  heavily. 

"Now?"  reiterated  Struh-La  interrogatively,  as  he 
began  to  close  the  box. 

"No,  you  don't!"  Jaffray  darted  clumsily  between 
the  Chinese  man  and  the  exit.  All  his  motions  were 
clogged  and  unconvincing.  His  fight  against  some  in- 
evitable inertia  was  more  than  apparent. 

356 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

Struh-La  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  were  on  the 
detective. 

"See  here !"  The  sweat  stood  big  on  Jaffray's  face, 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  shivered.  "See  here !" 
he  repeated,  "can't  you  be  a  man,  and  stand  up  equal, 
and  fight  me  with  your  fists,  and  drop  your  devil's 
power  just  for  once?  I  acknowledge  it — you  hold  a 
weapon  stronger  than  any  I  know  of.  I  bend  under  it ; 

but  by ,  even  with  it,  you  shall  not  get  away  with 

Stevens'  loot." 

With  one  mighty  effort,  he  tried  to  throw  himself 
upon  the  Oriental.  It  was  unavailing;  the  inexpli- 
cable force  still  rendered  his  huge  muscles  useless. 

With  a  perfect  composure,  Struh-La  paused,  re- 
opened the  box,  took  up  from  its  depths  the  shining 
heap  of  Reggie  Stevens'  marvelous  Oriental  flame 
stones,  the  mystical,  translucent  opals  that  glimmered 
like  molten  moonlight  on  the  bosom  of  a  fiery  sea; 
he  took  them  all  up,  and  let  them  slowly  fall  jingling 
and  tinkling  back  into  their  resting-place. 

He  ejaculated:  "Stevens'  loot,  yes,"  and  then  he 
closed  the  box,  took  it  up  under  his  arm,  and,  with  a 
slight  salutation  to  his  companion,  Struh-La  walked 
away. 


357 


THE   FLAME   DAN.C.ER 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE     FLAME     DANCE 

TE  moment  after  Jermyn  had  left  Reggie,  Stev- 
ens jumped  into  a  cab,  and  directed :  "Police 
headquarters." 

Five  minutes  after  he  reached,  he  had  engaged  and 
started  off  a  dozen  plain-clothes  men,  with  explicit  in- 
structions to  join  any  of  the  many  tourist-parties  for 
the  Chinese  quarter;  to  rendezvous  at  or  near  the  mo- 
saic stone,  and  to  await  there  his  signal.  Stevens  for 
years  had  been  well  used  to  commanding  bodies  of 
men,  and  accustomed  to  planning  small  campaigns 
against  Oriental  foes ;  he  knew  precisely  the  wily,  sub- 
tle nature  of  the  people  he  had  to  deal  with;  knew 
their  causes  of  alarm,  their  weak  and  their  strong 
points  both.  He  felt,  too,  the  old-time  vigor  and 
thirst  for  encounter  that  had  been  his  in  his  struggling 
days  in  the  East;  felt  the  same  thrill  of  assured  suc- 
cess that  he  had  experienced  when  he  was  acquiring 
the  lands,  and  tombs,  and  the  temples,  and  the  flame 
jewels  of  the  men  of  North  China:  not  only  was  he 
eager  for  the  rescue  of  the  woman  he  loved,  but  every 

358 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

ounce  of  his  flesh  hungered  for  the  lunge  and  thrust, 
the  give  and  take,  the  final  conquering  of  a  fight. 

As  he  was  leaving  headquarters,  the  chief  said: 
"Don't  forget,  sir,  that  once  you  do  get  down,  the 
area  is  as  big  as  it  is  above,  and  honeycombed  like  a 
bee's  hive." 

"I  know." 

"You  think  you  will  find  the  lady?" 

"Yes." 

"They'll  set  upon  you,  a  swarm  of  wasps." 

"Let  them."  The  millionaire  man  drove  off,  and  he 
was  not  long  in  attaining  the  mosaic  stone ;  there  was 
a  flood  of  light  shining  there  from  the  windows  of  a 
gay  little  restaurant.  All  the  pretty  bamboo  blinds 
were  blinking  and  twinkling  with  the  brightened  eyes 
and  reddened  mouths  of  the  slave  girls ;  there  was  the 
chatter  of  Eastern  tongues,  too,  the  babble  of  laugh- 
ter, the  patter  of  tiny  feet  on  the  pavements,  while 
clocks,  one  of  the  few  Western  inventions  which  the 
Oriental  loves,  chimed  out  the  hour.  In  the  narrow 
slit  of  sky  between  the  tall,  irregular  buildings  of 
the  precinct,  one  could  see  the  curving  sickle  of  the 
new  moon,  its  silvery  lustre  dimming  as  the  golden 
dawn  gave  hint  of  riding  up  and  up  the  sky.  Small 
wagons  were  rattling  in  the  wider  streets,  off  to  the 
outside  markets.  Then  there  came  a  strange  dull 

359 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

hush,  and  out  of  the  bosom  of  this  moment  of  preter- 
natural pause  there  issued  a  strain  of  melody  that 
quivered  and  swept  through  Reginald  Stevens'  very 
soul. 

Down  below,  in  the  depths  to  which  the  fawn-col- 
ored mosaic  stone  was  one  of  the  few  keys  of  en- 
trance, Struh-La  stood  in  the  little  paved  court,  where 
the  birds  hopped  about  with  their  legs  tied  with  silken 
threads,  and  where  the  monkeys  whistled;  where  the 
lights  were  never  put  out;  where  the  gold-fish  flopped 
in  the  fountain,  where  Luliani  de  Fontanges  stood, 
too.  In  this  place  the  night  was  day;  in  fact,  no  one 
seemed  to  sleep  there  at  all. 

Struh-La  was  touching  his  harp.  Its  first  notes  had 
smote  not  only  Stevens'  ears,  but  those  of  many  other 
men;  below  there  had  been  the  same  hush  as  above, 
j^st  before  he  had  first  touched  the  strings,  and  below 
could  be  heard  the  soft,  compact  sound,  like  the  rush 
of  waters,  of  myriads  of  sandaled  feet. 

Struh-La  stopped,  and  immediately  the  hundreds  of 
feet  ceased  to  patter.  The  place  was  still,  save  for  the 
fountain's  tinkle  and  the  little  twitter  of  the  captive 
birds. 

He  turned  to  Luliani,  and  said :  "Go  and  put  on  the 
flame  jewels,  all  of  them.  You  are  to  dance  the  flame 
dance  for  me  to-night.  I  have  told  the  people  they 

360 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

may  come  in  and  see  you;  it  has  never  been  done  in 
this  land.  I  want  you  to  do  it  here  before  we  go 
away." 

Her  eyes  flashed  as  she  glanced  questioningly  at 
him. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  "we  go  away,  to  Honolulu,  first, 
where  you  were  born,  thence  to  China,  back  to  the 
mountains  of  the  Lolos  men ;  but  before  we  go  we  will 
be  married,  according  to  your  adopted  religion.  I 
make  no  objection,  one  form  is  to  me  the  same  as  the 
other." 

"I  will  not,"  the  girl  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  responded.  "It  is  true  that  Stevens 
is  planning,  trying  to  attain  you;  he  cannot.  No  one 
can  thwart  me.  See  here !"  Struh-La  walked  not  to- 
ward, but  away  from  Luliani  de  Fontanges,  and  his 
voice  assumed  the  downright  hardness  of  the  West. 
"I  have  starved  every  impulse,  every  power  in  me, 
but  one.  I  have  subjugated  all  the  passions,  hungers, 
thirsts,  desires  of  man  which  I,  too,  was  endowed 
with,  so  that  I  might  concentrate  everything  in  one 
thing,  my  will.  I  have  succeeded.  I  may  have  lost 
all  the  so-called  pleasures  of  life,  but  I  have  obtained 
the  supreme.  I  can  control  men,  whether  they  are 
far  or  near  to  me.  You  understand.  I  have  you. 
You  are  mine,  or  you  will  be.  I  love  as  other  men 

361 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

love.  I  have  smothered,  restrained,  and  kept  it  in 
close  bondage,  but  the  day  is  arriving  when  I  can  re- 
enter  into  my  heritage  and  let  go  of  all  the  rest.  The 
talisman  of  the  flame  jewels  is  here  in  the  pocket 
next  my  heart,  and  you  are  here,  and  Stevens  is  not 
near  you."  He  turned  away  farther  from  her,  and 
then,  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  he  added :  "Go  and 
put  on  your  opals  and  your  tissues ;  the  fires  are  lighted 
and  the  curtains  are  waving,  and  my  friends  are  on 
the  way.  You  know  the  dance ;  do  it  just  as  you  did 
it  in  the  temple  under  the  dome,  when  you  were  a  little 
child.  Remember,  your  mother  was  of  my  tribe,  al- 
though your  father  was  of  France." 

Luliani  left  him.  When  she  had  gone,  he  drew  his 
hands  across  his  forehead  and  shook  them  out,  the 
sweat  was  dropping  from  them;  he  sighed,  and  then 
resumed  the  harp. 

The  footsteps  recommenced  outside,  above,  to  east, 
west,  north,  south  of  the  little  magical  underground 
city,  hurrying,  gentle,  approaching  myriads,  while 
Struh-La  played.  The  curtains  swayed  back  and  forth 
across  the  arch;  mellow  lights  that  flickered  as  they 
were  born  began  to  illumine  the  place;  yellow  faces 
began  to  appear  at  the  lattices,  at  the  tiny  windows, 
above,  below,  everywhere;  eyes  peering,  shining,  in- 
quiring, but  not  a  voice  was  raised.  Struh-La  played 

362 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

on,  and  his  music,  even  the  faint  echo  which  Stevens 
heard  far  up  above,  recalled  not  only  to  him,  but  to  the 
waiting  throng  below,  a  mirage  of  the  country  of  the 
far  East,  the  land  where  the  chrysanthemums  blossom 
in  the  fields,  where  the  rice-swamps  breed  their  fevers, 
where  the  tea-flowers  bloom,  where  millions  starve; 
where  life  is  crueler  far  than  any  manner  of  death, 
where  Struh-La  was  born;  where  the  temples  stood, 
and  where  the  mystical  talisman,  the  great  firestone 
opal,  once  hung  on  the  altar.  Each  pair  of  ratlike 
eyes  peeping  through  the  lattices  remembered  some- 
thing of  all  this  as  they  awaited  the  flame  dancer. 
Reggie  Stevens,  somewhere  above,  with  the  lure  of 
Struh-La's  harp  in  his  ears,  beheld  the  picture  of  the 
places  he  had  known  as  clearly  as  if  painted  on  a 
canvas  before  him. 

Louder  and  clearer,  more  clearly  still,  its  vibrations 
seeming  to  smite  and  cut  his  ears,  he  heard  the  echoing 
tinkle  of  Struh-La's  strings.  He  glanced  around;  he 
stood  at  the  edge  of  the  mosaic  stone;  he  knew  that  his 
men  were  near,  waiting;  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen. 
He  raised  his  hand,  and  made  the  motion  agreed 
upon.  Silently,  noiselessly,  swiftly  as  the  wind,  Regi- 
nald's dozen  sprang  out  of  the  unseen  places,  and, 
before  there  was  time  to  think,  the  mosaic  stone  swung 
on  its  pivot,  and  Reggie  started  down. 

363 


At  every  square  of  the  lattices,  far  up  at  the  roof, 
far  down  at  the  floor,  eyes  peered.  Struh-La  played 
no  more,  but  from  within  there  now  came  strains 
of  a  weirder  Oriental  music,  the  beat  of  drums  muf- 
fled and  subdued,  the  clash  of  cymbals,  the  sweetness 
of  the  lutes  and  viols  of  the  Chinese;  the  bamboo 
screens  were  swept  apart,  and  the  flare  of  great  flames 
burst  upon  the  place — the  red  and  yellow  and  blue 
tongues  darting,  thrusting  in  mazes  of  color  all  about 
her  as  she  came.  Luliani,  in  a  cloud  of  shimmering 
tissues,  her  face  amid  the  flames'  shadows  like  a 
white  enchanted  flower,  glided  into  the  place.  On 
her  shone  the  firestones,  the  heart  of  each  a  piece,  it 
seemed,  of  the  sheet  of  living  flame  that  appeared  to 
surround  and  to  envelope  her.  They  gleamed  on  her 
neck,  her  arms,  her  girdle,  her  fingers,  her  ears,  and 
as  she  pursued  the  rhythmical  measures  of  the  dance 
she  looked  a  part  of  the  flames  themselves. 

It  was  a  curious  dance:  it  is  never  danced  twice 
alike,  because  it  is  a  dance  of  suggestion.  The  girl 
who  dances  derives  her  inspiration  at  the  moment 
from  those  who  watch  her  and  from  the  music  she 
hears. 

Luliani  began  gently,  with  the  curving  grace  of  a 
rainbow;  she  scarcely  moved,  and  it  was  but  to  sway 
a  little,  as  the  bamboo  screens  swayed  in  the  breeze; 

364 


THE   FLAME   DANCER 

then  she  made  more  motion,  and  more,  vivid,  tense, 
agile  motion.  No  longer  the  languorous  measures  of 
the  Orient,  but  the  spasmodic  and  vigilant  circles  and 
steps  of  the  West.  No  longer  the  indirection  of  her 
mother's  country,  but  the  seductive  and  positive  move- 
ments of  her  father's. 

Her  thought  was  of  Reginald  Stevens. 

Amid  all  the  ancient  surroundings,  breathing  the  at- 
mosphere that  was  archaic,  she  yet  was  the  exponent 
then  and  there  of  the  most  intense  modernism. 

Struh-La  watched  her,  and  he  comprehended  it  in  a 
degree.  He  was  aware  that  her  thought  was  not  of 
him;  he  even  supposed  it  was  of  Stevens.  But  what 
did  it  matter,  after  all?  Very  little,  or  nothing. 

Suddenly  she  stopped;  the  music  stopped.  Struh- 
La,  with  a  word,  sent  all  his  guests  away,  and  the 
lattices  were  cleared,  and  only  the  retreating  patter  of 
the  cloth-clad  feet  was  to  be  heard ;  the  flames,  fanned 
by  the  breeze,  still  rose  high  and  cast  their  radiance 
from  the  gilded  braziers  outside  the  court ;  the  bamboo 
screens  swayed  back  and  forth.  Woo  Fong  slept  at 
her  post  within. 

Struh-La  said:  "Now  finish  the  dance  for  me 
alone." 

Luliani  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  answered;  "I 
will  not." 

365 


THE  FL'AME  DANCER 

"Come  to  me!"  he  exclaimed. 

She  approached  him. 

"I  wish  now,  for  the  first  time,  to  give  you  some- 
thing," he  whispered  to  her.  "Do  you  not  guess  what 
it  must  be?" 

Luliani  did  not  speak  at  once;  she  was  listening.  It 
seemed  to  her  supersensitive  hearing  that  she  detected 
Stevens'  footstep,  that  presently  he  would  be  there, 
that  at  last  she  should  regain  her  own  soul,  her  own 
freedom,  and  that  it  mattered  meantime  very  little 
what  she  said  to  this  man  beside  her.  So  she  said: 
"I  can't  imagine." 

Struh-La  took  the  talisman,  the  great  flame  opal, 
from  his  pocket,  and  laid  it  on  the  cushion,  away  from 
him  a  little,  and  he  himself  drew  much  nearer  to 
Luliani.  There  was  in  his  eyes,  had  she  but  noted  it, 
an  appeal  that  was  new,  indeed,  to  them;  it  was  the 
plea  of  the  lover  who  is  also  glad  to  be  the  slave,  as 
he  replied:  "Guess." 

But  Luliani  did  not  see  it,  and  she,  therefore,  said, 
glancing  at  the  talisman :  "I  suppose  you  wish  to  give 
me  this,  also?"  She  even  touched  the  great  stone  with 
her  finger. 

He  rose  up  from  his  cushion  and  stared  at  her;  all 
the  appeal  was  gone  from  his  face;  it  was  livid;  his 
eyes  burned  as  fiercely  as  the  flames  in  Woo  Fong's 

366 


THE   FL'AME   DANCER 

neglected  braziers,  or  those  in  the  heart  of  the  won- 
derful bauble  on  its  cushion. 

"Oh,  you  woman  with  the  blood  of  the  Western 
man  in  your  veins:  without  reverence,  without  faith, 
steeped  in  vanity  and  fair  as  those  who  walk  in 
heaven!  Could  you  not  have  spared  this  one  jewel 
from  the  store  for  the  sake  of  my  faith?  When  you 
know  how  I  have  toiled  to  regain  it,  when  you  know 
that  I  have  risked  life  itself  to  restore  it,  you  think  to 
add  it  to  your  adornment ;  you  think  that  I  would  place 
it  on  you,  thus  robbing  the  sacred  place.  No!  I 
would  not  give  you  this.  It  was  the  touch  of  my  lips 
that  I  longed  to  give  you,  but  you,  insatiable  in  your 
greed  and  lust  of  fineries,  luxuries,  splendors;  you 
woman  of  the  Western  world,  you  want  life,  love, 
blood,  brains,  gems,  stuffs,  animals,  boats,  houses,  all 
that  your  men  toil  and  sweat  to  give  you.  And  then 
you  would  cry  out  for  still  more.  You  would  rob 
the  gods.  I  adore  you;  I  love  you;  I  want  you  in- 
finitely," Struh-La's  voice  sank  to  a  mere  whisper, 
"but  I  am  not  yet  mad,  nor  will  I  ever  be  so.  The 
man  of  the  East  is  sane;  you  want  the  man  who  is  not 
sane." 

She  made  no  answer,  no  remonstrance. 

As  the  rainbow  fires  leaped  up  their  highest,  being 
near  their  end,  Struh-La  crossed  over  through  them, 

367 


THE  FLAME  'DANCER 

unscathed,  and  snatched  Luliani  to  his  heart,  his  strong 
arms  enclosed  her,  his  lips  were  on  hers,  the  flames 
were  wrapped  around  them,  the  magical  flames  the 
Orientals  can  evoke,  but  she  felt  more  the  scorch  of 
his  kiss  than  the  touch  of  the  fiery  tongues. 

"Oh,"  he  whispered,  "you  are  mine.  Do  you  hear  ? 
Mine!  No  man  can  take  you  from  me.  I  could  kill 
you,  bite  you  with  my  teeth,  strike  you  with  my  hands, 
pound  you  under  my  feet.  You  are  mine.  There  shall 
be  no  marriage,  as  you  call  it,  between  us.  There  is 
no  creed.  You  belong  to  me  now." 

Luliani's  eyes  were  imprisoned  in  Struh-La's  gaze; 
she  neither  shrank  nor  retreated;  she  looked  at  him 
with  the  frankness  of  a  child  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,  there  shall  be  no  marriage  be- 
tween us." 

Struh-La  would  have  drawn  her  nearer  to  him,  but 
something  now  restrained  him.  He  had  never  felt  a 
restraint  other  than  that  imposed  by  his  own  will  be- 
fore, and  he  was  silent. 

Luliani  went  on :  "I  have  been  your  slave ;  I  knew 
that  the  day  would  come  when  you  would  be  mine." 
Struh-La's  arms  dropped  away  from  her.  "I  have 
been  patient.  I  believed  that  when  I  was  worthy  I 
would  be  free!" 

The  Oriental  man  laughed  a  little.  He  shook  him- 

368 


THE  FLAME   DANCER 

self  in  an  endeavor  to  recover  his  powers.  "You 
think  Stevens  is  on  the  way  to  you!"  he  cried. 

The  girl  drew  herself  up.  "And  even  if  he  were, 
I  will  owe  nothing  to  him.  I  will  owe  it  to  myself. 
Through  all  my  years  of  subjection  to  you,  I  have 
foreseen  my  hour  of  release.  I  have  known  it  must 
come  by  the  faith  and  force  of  my  own  soul.  Struh- 
La,  it  has  been  your  soul  that  has  held  me  in  bondage, 
it  is  now  my  soul  that  says  to  you  obey.  And  you 
will  obey  me  because  I  am  now  the  stronger  soul.  I 
owe  my  freedom  to  no  man — the  soul  must  work  its 
own  salvation.  You  cannot  even  touch  me.  I  have 
no  fear  of  you  or  of  anything." 

Struh-La  stood  looking  at  her,  and  as  he  looked  the 
fabric  of  his  actual  physique  seemed  to  crumble;  he 
approached  her,  it  is  true,  but  humbly,  even  rever- 
ently, and  the  light  in  his  mystical  eyes  flickered  as 
the  dying  candle  flickers.  He  whispered  to  her: 

"Luliani,  how  is  it,  why  is  it,  what  is  the  reason?'* 
His  intellect  was  alert  and  keen  even  in  this  strange 
and  sudden  crisis. 

"The  reason,"  she  answered  slowly,  "is  love.  When 
one  loves  enough  one  can  overcome — even  one's  self, 
and  all  one's  weaknesses  so — as — to — be — worthy." 

With  the  writhing  effort  of  a  wounded  panther,  the 
man  from  the  Orient  gathered  his  strength  as  if  for 

369 


THE  F^L'AME  DANCER 

qne  last  struggle.     The  savage  in  him  sprang  to  the 
fore. 

"Worthy  of  Stevens,  I  suppose  you  mean?"  under 
his  breath. 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "that's  what  I  mean." 

Struh-La  lifted  his  arm  to  strike,  but  Reggie  had 
gained  Struh-La's  home,  and  one  plunge  put  him  be- 
tween the  man  and  the  woman. 

Luliani  turned  from  Stevens,  she  even  pushed  him 
gently  aside.  She  stood  up  straight  and  fearless,  and 
Struh-La  stared  at  her.  His  arm  fell;  he  saluted 
Stevens  in  a  manner  that  was  both  pathetic  and  proud. 
He  smiled  at  her  as  he  said:  "Here  is  your  man!" 
To  Stevens:  "Take  her,  she  is  your  blood  and  breed. 
I  give  her  to  you.  I  give  you  also  all  the  jewels  she 
wears.  You  stole  them  from  me  years  ago.  I  am  the 
man  who  came  and  begged  you  not  to  rob  the  sacred 
temple  of  my  ancestors.  You  laughed.  I  told  you  I 
would  regain  them.  I  have.  I  wanted  the  woman. 
I  attained  her.  I  no  longer  want  her.  But  this  one 
thing,"  he  looked  down  at  the  talisman  in  his  hand, 
"I  keep.  I  go  back  to  the  East.  Take  the  woman 
and  her  jewels,  and  go  away  from  here  in  peace." 

He  crossed  away  from  her  very  erectly,  but  he  had 
lost  all  the  vivid  directness  of  his  usual  motions;  he 
stood  quietly  and  watched  the  other  two. 

370 


THE  FLAME  DANCER 

Stevens  took  from  his  pocket  the  pendant  that  Bertha 
Wilmerding  had  appeared  to  find  on  Luliani's  sleeve 
that  night  so  long  ago;  and  laid  it  on  the  cushion. 
Luliani  took  every  jewel  off  and  Stevens  laid  them 
also  carefully  beside  the  rest. 

Then  the  two  who  loved  each  other  walked  away 
together  hand  in  hand  through  the  thick  perfumed 
smoke  from  the  dying  brazier  fires,  and  Struh-La  was 
alone. 

The  only  sound  they  heard  as  they  climbed  up  was 
the  bitter  cry  of  a  soul  defeated  and  in  anguish — but 
they  did  not  care.  Love  does  not  care  for  the  other 
man. 

THE  END. 


371 


A     000  125  536     3 


